Uninvited
by California Kat
Summary: Beginning in the middle of Season 3, UNINVITED explores a different direction for the TB story following the van incident. As Sookie lies in the hospital fighting for her life, Eric must pretend to be the ally of his greatest enemy, Russell, in order to save Pam's life. What if Russell looks into Eric's blue eyes and recognizes the young man he saw so long ago? (E/S)
1. Chapter 1: Balls

**Uninvited**

_Summary_: Beginning in the middle of Season 3, _Uninvited_ explores a different direction for the _TB_ story following the van incident. As Sookie lays in the hospital fighting for her life, Eric must pretend to be the ally of his greatest enemy, Russell, in order to save Pam's life. What if Russell looks into Eric's blue eyes and recognizes the young man he saw so long ago? What if Eric has to run for his life? Will he leave Sookie behind—at the mercy of Russell and the vampire who almost killed her? Or will he take her with him?

_Disclaimer_: I own no characters or plotlines related to _True Blood_ or the _Southern Vampire Mysteries_. I write for my own pleasure (and yours) only and make no profit from my work.

Alanis Morissette's song "Uninvited" is also an inspiration for this piece, but I don't own that either.

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**Chapter 01: Balls**

_**EPOV**_

Eric Northman was angry—really fucking angry.

For the first time in his long existence, he was losing control of a situation. Actually, he had _already_ lost control.

And the source of his consternation had a name: Sookie Stackhouse.

He'd felt her panic and then her pain even as he'd been in his day-rest. Her emotions had been so sharp that they had woken him the fuck up! Nothing had ever done that to him before.

_Nothing_!

At first, Eric had feared that the source of his pain was his progeny's death. His child, Pam, was currently being held by the Magister—that self-righteous, self-important son of a bitch who had been tipped off about the V sales Eric had been forced to make for Queen Sophie-Anne, who was yet another thorn in his fucking side.

After a few moments of agonizing worry that afternoon, Eric had realized that his child—thankfully—was in her day-sleep, obviously having been given some time to rejuvenate so that the Magister could reinjure her body the next night. He was, after all, well known for his preference for having a healed, clean slate as he started each new night of torture.

The sadistic bastard.

Though Pam was relatively fine for the moment, Eric had been acutely aware of his progeny's pain for the last two nights. However, he knew that his child would not break under her torture—at least not so soon. He'd taught her better than that. But her agony had been profound and prolonged. Eric almost admired the Magister's zeal for his task. He hoped that Pam was taking notes.

No—the source of his pain and the cause of his waking had been his blood inside of one Sookie Stackhouse: the telepathic barmaid who'd been captivating way too much of his attention lately. The thing that pissed him off the most was that he couldn't seem to stop himself from being captivated, especially since he'd maneuvered his blood into her.

"_My blood in her was supposed to give ME the fucking power_," he thought ruefully. However, Eric suppressed a sigh and kept his face expressionless.

The Viking had so many fucking balls up in the air that the very last thing he needed was for Sookie Stackhouse to be added to the mix, but there she was—as fucking usual! The biggest and most unwieldy fucking ball of all!

Eric calmed himself. He was a warrior. He was a strategist. He was Godric's child—for fuck's sake! And even if he wasn't in control right now, all he needed was a plan, and then he would be again.

He did an inventory of the various balls that were hovering around him. He tried to visualize each one as a game-piece. He just needed to move all the pieces around until he could visualize a winning strategy.

Ball one. First and foremost, he had to save Pam from the Magister. And, unfortunately, he needed Russell Edgington's help to accomplish that task.

Ball two. He had to plan and execute the final death of that same vampire, Russell Edgington, who he had just found out had been responsible for his human family's deaths more than a thousand years before. Oh—and, of course, Russell couldn't be the run-of-the-mill vampire. No! He had to be three thousand fucking years old! Eric hadn't been able to hold a candle to his maker's strength, and Russell was a thousand years Godric's senior! As far as Eric knew, Russell was the oldest vampire on the continent and one of the oldest in existence. And he was a king to boot!

Oh—and he came with his own personal army of Weres, Weres strengthened by and addicted to vampire blood.

Ball three. He had to eliminate that two-faced bitch of an _ex_-queen of his, Sophie-Anne Leclerq, who'd had him selling the V that had gotten him into this fucking mess in the first place.

He'd been looking for a reason to do away with her for a while now. Truth be told, that bitch had signed her fucking death warrant when she poached into his territory for the telepath. Had she just told him about Sookie Stackhouse, Eric would have secured her as an asset without all the fucking subterfuge. Given what he knew about Sookie, Eric figured that she would have worked freely for Sophie-Anne as long as she had been given a fair contract and could maintain a somewhat normal life. All Sophie-Anne would have had to do was to pay Eric the normal tribute for securing such an asset, which Eric would have likely waved in exchange for the occasional usage of Sookie's telepathy. It _could_ have been a civilized business arrangement between everyone involved.

But no! Sophie-Anne had to be a twat!

Despite her age, the queen continued to view the world as a spoiled child viewed toys. She felt that she was _entitled_ to everything in the fucking toy box, and she didn't share!

Also damning Sophie-Anne was the fact that she had betrayed him, even though he'd been a loyal sheriff to her for decades. It had been she who had tipped off the Magister that the V would be at Fangtasia. It was her fault that Pam was in pain. The Viking's hands literally itched for his sword so that he could take her fucking head!

Ball four. Sookie Stackhouse.

He _should_ have killed her long ago because of all the trouble that seemed to follow her around. She was defiant and foolhardy. She was naïve and annoying, especially when it came to her reckless devotion to Bill Compton, who was one of the most insipid vampires Eric had ever met.

But there was something about Sookie Stackhouse that drew Eric in, like a fucking moth to the flame. Yes—she was defiant, but the novelty of having someone stand up to him after so long aroused a fire within Eric's dead heart. Could her fire match his own? Could she make his life less dull and monotonous?

Did he even want to bother with her at all?

At least he knew the answer to the last question: yes. Though she was likely more trouble than she was worth, the answer was yes.

Sookie was foolhardy, but she was also loyal. And though her blazing devotion was wasted on the likes of Compton and her shifter boss, it was still something to be admired. She was only naïve because Compton had endeavored to keep her that way so that she could be controlled. But she was not stupid. It was true that she was inexperienced; however, Eric saw within her the potential to become a great warrior. And he'd not seen such a thing since he brought Pam to his side.

In fact, if he was telling the truth, his initial attraction to Sookie far eclipsed even that which he'd felt for Pam.

God help him, but now that he had gotten to know Sookie, Eric couldn't allow her to be lost to the clutches of someone like Sophie-Anne, who would display her pet telepath like a fucking zoo animal in a cage.

Sookie's fire burned too hot for a cage; thus, she would surely defy Sophie-Anne at every turn, which would lead to the queen losing control one day and draining her dry.

Eric could imagine the aftermath now. A dead Sookie at her feet, Sophie-Anne would likely let out a dainty laugh and cover her mouth coyly, before wiping away Sookie's blood from her lips and chin with a white lace handkerchief. "Oh well," she would say in that irritatingly shrill lilt of hers, "It was her own fault for being _so_ delectable. Compton! Compton!" she would call. "You will need to procure me another telepathic fairy immediately!"

The thought of Sophie-Anne's sense of entitlement and lack of responsibility made Eric want to retch, but he kept his stony countenance in place.

And—of course—the damage that Sophie-Anne could do to Sookie paled in comparison to the damage that Russell would likely inflict upon her.

Eric would have cringed at that thought if he hadn't had an audience.

As far as Eric was concerned, Bill-fucking-Compton was the chief reason why Russell knew about Sookie anyway. Compton wasn't important enough for Eric to consider a ball in the air, but he was most definitely a pain in his ass. Compton was inferior in every way, yet he had managed to enthrall Sookie because of his blood. Eric knew that the younger vampire had gotten pints and pints of his blood into Sookie, and he'd obviously had her blood too. The Viking could only imagine the kind of influence Bill had established over her.

Moreover, Compton and his mainstreaming nonsense just annoyed the hell out of Eric.

The Viking wouldn't have ridiculed Bill nearly so much if he had believed that the younger vampire was genuine about the lifestyle he had professed to be taking up. But Bill was the worst kind of apologist, always offering excuses for who he was and what he did. In Eric's experience, the only vampires like that were the ones who had a disproportionately large number of things to apologize for.

And the Viking had heard things about Bill, especially about when he was still with Lorena. But he'd also heard rumors about more recent occurrences in Sophie-Anne's court. According to Eric's spies, before Bill had decided to "mainstream," he was well known for finding women who appealed to Sophie-Anne's tastes—women who would not be missed if they simply disappeared. The lucky ones—like Hadley—pleased the queen enough to be kept around and became "donors." The unlucky ones were banqueted upon by the vampires at court.

Eric knew for a fact that Russell Edgington planned to utilize Bill's talents in a similar way. Talbot had been very forthcoming in telling him about Bill's "job interview" a few nights before. Apparently, after Russell, Lorena, and Bill were finished with the dancer Bill had procured, the interior of the limo had needed to be redone.

And the dancer—of course—had been dead.

Obviously, such actions were "forbidden" by the AVL, but even if they were not, Eric wouldn't have chosen to participate in them. There was nothing less appetizing to Eric than the thought of sharing a meal with someone like Sophie-Anne or Russell Edgington. Eric had fed off of humans with Pam and Godric before, but that was for practicality or more "innocent" pleasure. And those occurrences had not turned into blood orgies with human corpses as the end product.

The Viking was not blameless, but he wasn't a depraved miscreant either.

Eric had killed _many_ in his thousand years—mostly enemies, but some innocents as well, especially in the wars he fought as a human. He couldn't help but to recall the sword that was swung at him haphazardly in battle one time. The swing had been weak and unsteady, but the blade had bitten into his lower back. Without thought, Eric had turned and was swinging his own sword. The body that he had cleft in two belonged to a boy, probably no more than five years of age. That child's sky blue eyes—and the surprise in them as he'd died—would always stay with Eric. But even _that_ kill, the Viking would not apologize for. The boy had chosen to fight. And he had died well and bravely. Eric had burned his body and sent him on to Valhalla with his own fallen warriors.

As a vampire, Eric had been trained and tested by Godric from the start. Up until recently, the smartest vampires had traveled in the shadows in order to conceal their natures. That was why Godric tended to follow battles—at least until more modern weaponry began to be utilized. Drinking from the already gaping wounds of dying soldiers on battlefields did not draw any attention. A thousand years before, Godric had taught Eric to drink only what he had to from glamoured townspeople and to gorge himself on the battlefields.

Certainly, in his travels with Godric, Eric had seen decadence and lack of control among his kind. Huge blood orgies were common in larger cities as vampire royalty would send their procurers or their Renfields to round up orphans and prostitutes and the homeless—large numbers of people who wouldn't be missed. Godric had given him a maker's command to never attend one of those "events," but—in all honesty—Eric had not needed such a command. The Viking enjoyed fucking and feeding as much as the next vampire—probably more—but that level of depravity for its own sake was never something he'd been tempted by.

On the contrary, Bill had—if even a fraction of the stories about Lorena and him were true—reveled in his life among the underbelly of society. And Eric knew that at least one such story was true; he'd seen the after-effects firsthand. Certainly, Bill was not all to blame. He had to follow his maker's lead, just as all younglings did. But as far as Eric could see, Bill was that kind of weak vampire who would revel in his degeneracy—only to wallow in guilt and blame after it was over. Casting themselves as martyrs, vampires like Bill would insist that their malevolent acts were not their fault. Yet they would still feel the guilt for them. However, that guilt rarely led to anything other than words of regret—words that became meaningless once the next degenerate and self-indulgent act was to be committed.

Given what Eric now knew about Bill's real reason for coming to Bon Temps, the Viking had zero sympathy or patience for the Civil War veteran. Eric just had to make Sookie Stackhouse see the truth about her "true love" before she became another dead girl for Bill Compton to feel guilty about.

Eric once again had to hold in his sigh.

Indeed—by far—Sookie was the slipperiest of the balls he had in the air. He would have to look pretty fucking far to find someone who didn't want to possess her in some way: Bill, Lorena, Russell, Sophie-Anne, Sam Merlotte, and even Alcide Herveaux now. Eric recognized that he was not immune to Sookie either; everything within his body called out to him to make Sookie Stackhouse his own. To make matters worse, most of the people on the list of Sookie's "admirers" didn't just want Sookie; they wanted to control her—to _own_ her.

The telepath had an annoying habit of attracting every supernatural malefactor around! Hell! Even Maenads came out of the fucking woodwork when she was near! So Eric was certain that the list of "Sookie fans" would only grow in the future. Eric once more stopped himself from sighing. He _should_ have just killed Sookie the moment he first felt any kind of attachment to her. Instead, he found himself "volunteering" to be the president of her fucked up fan club!

The scent of her blood had been enough to draw him in. Finding out that she was a telepath was a bonus. And now he'd discovered from Hadley that Sookie was a fairy—a fucking fairy! Yet, none of those things held a candle to the main reason he found himself wanting her more than any other woman he'd ever encountered. Simply put, she stirred him—right down to his undead soul. Truth be told, if he'd been asked, he would have denied even having a soul before Sookie Stackhouse walked into his life. But it was there, a cesspool of swarming emotions that would probably get him killed. But instead of avoiding that pool—as he should have been doing—all he wanted to do was to dive headlong into it.

Eric mentally chastised himself. Here he was, distracted by Sookie—_again_—when he needed to be on the top of his game.

The Viking stared impassively at his erstwhile queen and the psychopathic Russell Edgington sitting across from him in the back of the purple stretch limo, which had been one of the more ostentatious and tacky pieces in Sophie-Anne's "car fleet." She claimed that the color stood for her royalty. Eric wondered what color signified a royal pain in the ass. He hoped it was the same color as the queen's blood.

The two monarchs were squabbling over the percentage of Louisiana's treasury and income Sophie-Anne was going to hand over to Russell as her "dowry." Eric didn't even try to reign in the rage on his face when Russell disclosed that Sophie-Anne had huge secret bank accounts in the Cayman Islands, apparently filled with money she'd been siphoning from Louisiana for as long as she'd been queen.

And she'd had him selling V!

Eric growled. Sophie-Anne's greed had been the sole reason why Eric had been busting his ass and risking his undead life in order to sell the blood of his kind. Even worse, in doing so, Eric had been going against every precept that Godric had ever taught him about the sacredness of the blood. The really fucked up thing was that if Eric had refused, Sophie-Anne would have been able to execute him for treason.

It had been the very definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. And now his child was suffering for Sophie-Anne's greed!

During the seemingly never-ending limo ride from Sophie-Anne's palatial estate just north of Baton Rouge to Shreveport, Eric had had to stop himself several times from ripping out the queen's throat. Even more difficult, however, was having to keep up his current façade of loyal lapdog to Russell. First, Russell was a fucking lunatic. Even more, however, he was the fucking lunatic who had killed Eric's family.

Eric had needed to harness every one of the lessons in control taught to him by Godric in order to stomach sharing the same few feet with the monarchs in front of him. They _both_ needed to fucking die!

But not yet. If he tried to kill them now, it would be _he_ who was cut down. And where would that leave Pam? And Sookie?

Eric could feel that they were nearing Shreveport even as he felt the connections to two of the three women who had his blood growing stronger. Pam was in pain again, so the Magister had obviously recommenced his "games" for the night. However, from Sookie, Eric felt very little in that moment. She was closer than before, though she was not in Shreveport. He found himself thankful that she was not in pain, but was disconcerted by how weak their tie was. She was most certainly unconscious and likely in what humans called a coma.

The third woman who'd had his blood, Hadley, was on her way to Mississippi with the rest of Sophie-Anne's "favorite things." Giving Hadley his blood had been a calculated move on the Viking's part. He'd not wanted her dead because of her kinship to Sookie, but he could also track her now. And where Hadley was, the queen was likely to be as well. Eric intended to use his blood tie with Hadley to his advantage as much as he could.

Russell's phone interrupted both Eric's thoughts and the king's "lovers quarrel" with Sophie-Anne. Russell gave the queen a sharp look.

"You _will_ keep your mouth shut if you want to avoid the true death, dearest," he said, his tone a disconcerting mixture of ruthlessness and sing-songedness.

Russell winked at Eric. The Viking smiled flirtingly in return, though his blood was boiling with hatred for the king.

"Talbot. Darling," Russell said warmly as he answered the phone. Sophie-Anne rolled her eyes, but smartly kept her trap shut.

Though Eric kept his face mostly blank, he was amused by Talbot's narrative, which was spoken mostly in Greek and which contained a multitude of expletives in a variety of languages. Clearly Sophie-Anne did not know any Greek, a fact which seemed to irk her to no end. But the Viking understood every single word. Of course, Russell didn't need to know that; thus, Eric showed no reaction beyond general curiosity about the call.

Talbot informed his paramour that Compton, along with two human females, had escaped. They'd apparently gotten help from a Were. One of the human females was the girl that Franklin Mott had planned to turn. From the scent he'd smelled on Mott the evening before, Eric concluded that the girl must be Tara Thornton, one of Sookie's few friends. Apparently, the girl had also brained Mott to within an inch of his un-dead life. Eric was disappointed that she hadn't finished the job. Mott was an asshole—a sociopathic asshole—and the world would be better without him.

Eric didn't need to hear Talbot's report to identify the other girl who had escaped. His blood had already told him that she was much closer to him than Jackson, Mississippi.

Sookie Stackhouse.

He wondered if she had been injured during the escape, but then discounted that theory when he heard Talbot telling Russell that Bill and the others had gotten away several hours before Eric had been woken up by Sookie's terror and pain.

Not for the first time, the Viking was glad that no others—except for Pam and Compton—were privy to the fact that Sookie had had his blood. Thus, Russell had no idea that Eric could track her. Despite his overall uselessness, at least Compton had kept _that_ fact from Russell—so far. However, Eric knew that he could count on Bill's discretion only as long as the younger vampire's own life wasn't threatened.

In addition to the escapes, Talbot also reported that Lorena had met the true death. Eric had to work _very_ hard not to give away his glee at that fact. Lorena had outlived her usefulness as far as the Viking was concerned. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

A couple of Russell's Weres were also killed, including the leader of the pack, who'd had the unfortunate name of Cooter. Eric would have been happy if all the tattooed Weres in the fucking world were done away with, but Cooter was a good start.

As Talbot ranted, Russell tried to sooth his frazzled lover's nerves by cooing at him in Greek, but the younger vampire was not to be placated. His pitch got higher and higher until Russell was literally holding the phone away from his ear.

Russell winked at Eric again, and the Viking somehow managed to give the king a coy smile in return.

As Talbot began to screech about an apparently rabid Were-bitch named Debbie Pelt who was requesting the duty of hunting down Sookie Stackhouse—so that she could "revenge her Cooter"—the king had finally had enough of the conversation.

"I will call you later, my love," Russell said—as cool as a cucumber—into the receiver before abruptly ending the call.

Eric steeled himself as Russell smiled at him. A thousand years of hiding his true feelings from others was put to good use as Eric returned Russell's grin.

"Men!" Russell said with mock frustration.

Eric chuckled. "That is why I have always preferred short-term dalliances to relationships," the Viking said, as if confiding in the king. "However," Eric leered as he slowly moved his eyes up and down Russell's body, "for a _worthy_ lover, I could be persuaded to alter my usual habits."

Russell leaned forward and dragged one of his hands unhurriedly down Eric's chest until he brought it to rest at his crotch and began to rub what he found there. Feeling anything but aroused, the Viking quickly put aside his disgust and growled as if Russell's actions were welcome. Eric closed his eyes and brought forth the most arousing thought that he could muster in that moment—Sookie Stackhouse standing before his throne at Fangtasia in a white dress with red flowers. She'd been both innocent and fiery that night.

"_Well, aren't you sweet_," Eric replayed his comment in his head.

"_Not really_," had been her response.

Armed with that memory, Eric felt his cock beginning to stiffen to the touch, which he now imagined was from Sookie's hand.

"Mmmm," purred Russell even as he thankfully pulled away his hand. Eric opened his eyes and managed to give Russell the lust-filled look the elder vampire was expecting. "I can see you could be of _great_ service to me, Mr. Northman."

"I would be honored to _serve_, my liege," Eric said, his voice conveying both reverence and desire.

"Ugh," came Sophie-Anne's annoyed voice. For the first time that night, Eric was grateful that she had not yet met her true death. Her interruption was extremely welcome.

Eric, my boy," the older vampire said in a slightly patronizing tone, even as he ignored Sophie-Anne, "my blushing bride-to-be has told me that you're her most profitable sheriff. Your skills, however, seem wasted in this shithole area. My flower here will be returning with me to Mississippi for the time being, and I believe that my reign . . . ." He stopped for a moment and looked apologetically at Sophie-Anne. "I am _so_ sorry, my dove; I meant _our_ reign."

Russell smirked at Eric as Sophie-Anne rolled her eyes. She had self-preservation enough, however, not to say the snide comment that was obviously on the tip of her tongue.

"As I was saying," Russell continued, "_Our_ reign would be better served if you relocated—say to New Orleans. Area 1 seems a better fit for someone of your age and talents.

Eric held his smile in place with difficulty. He hadn't needed another reason to hate Russell Edgington; however, the monarch had managed to insult Eric's area even as he gave the Viking a backhanded compliment. Under the surface, Eric seethed. Area 5 was _not_ a fucking shithole! On the contrary, it was the quiet corner of the world that he had always longed for—or at least it had been.

And Eric had worked very hard to build up the vampire population and the profits in the area. No—Area 5 was most definitely _not_ a shithole, at least not in the realm of vampires. Moreover, the last thing Eric wanted was to be in charge of Area 1, which was full of idiotic vampires who tried to pretend they were characters out of Anne Rice's novels. Eric didn't want all the fucking headaches that would certainly come from being in charge of the Area that included New Orleans! But—once more—the Viking had to hide his displeasure.

"My liege," Eric said—again with both deference and suggestiveness in his tone, "it would be my honor to serve you in _any_ capacity you see fit—even if I must wrangler a half-dozen Lestats." He winked.

Russell chuckled and then leered once more at Eric, though he spoke words directed at Sophie-Anne. "See, my dear moon flower, despite your protestations to the contrary, young Eric here seems _quite_ willing to do whatever is necessary to _please_ his monarch. Perhaps," he said as he settled his hand onto Eric's inner thigh, "you simply didn't challenge him enough."

Sophie-Anne once more rolled her eyes and grunted inelegantly.

Eric couldn't help but to scoff at Sophie-Anne's immature reaction. He'd had to deal with her shit for way too long. The Viking settled his own hand over Russell's and looked him in the eye, though his words, too, were meant for Sophie-Anne. "It is my pleasure to attend to a monarch who _deserves_ my allegiance." He turned his gaze to his ex-queen and leveled a savage glare in her direction, causing her to cower into the seat of the limo. Eric basked in the few moments of satisfaction he received from her reaction.

However, his celebration was short-lived as he felt a particularly sharp stab of pain from Pam. Though he could have remained impassive to the discomfort he felt, Eric decided to cringe a little. He knew that Russell would see the reaction, and—just as he'd hoped would happen—the king removed his hand from Eric's thigh and sat back into his seat.

"It is my progeny, your majesty," Eric offered by way of explanation—before Russell could ask what had caused his reaction. "I'm afraid the Magister has resumed his torture of her."

Russell scoffed, "The Magister and the Authority that employs him are both antiquated notions! I look forward to a _new_ world order—one formulated by _me_."

Eric nodded. "As do I, your majesty," he said with bowed head even as he tried to send his child confidence through their bond. Hopefully, at least one of the balls he had in the air would soon be taken care of. He just hoped that Pam could hang on until he got there.

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**A/N: Well—there you have it! I hope that you have enjoyed the first chapter of Uninvited! I'm loving being in this Eric's head! **

**Please let me know what you think!**

**XOXO,**

**Kat**

**P.S. If you want to see character banners for this story, check out my WordPress Site (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**

**In addition to making character banners for me, the wonderful Sephrenia has also agreed to make banners for each chapter. I'm so happy and thankful to have this talented artist working to add visuals to my stories again! **


	2. Chapter 2: Playing Rough

**Chapter 02: Playing Rough**

Twenty minutes later, the limo pulled into Fangtasia's parking lot. Eric looked at Russell expectantly.

The ancient vampire's voice was once again laced with a patronizing tone, "Eric, you may proceed. My dainty flower and I will follow along directly."

Eric nodded and dashed away. Within moments, he was in the basement of _his_ business where the Magister was getting ready to pierce _his_ child's eyelids.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Northman," the Magister intoned, his creepy voice immediately grating on Eric's nerves.

However, the Viking's eyes were only for his child. She was chained to the table with silver; there was hope in her pain-filled eyes.

"Where is our Mr. Compton?" the Magister asked snidely.

"Mr. Compton did not accompany me," Eric said, keeping his tone even. "But I have brought along the true culprit behind the V sales in my area."

"Ah," the Magister said in a bored tone, "the 'true culprit.' Do tell. I'm all atwitter with anticipation." He pulled the chains tighter around Pam's waist.

Eric cringed as he felt his child's pain and saw her agony. Luckily for the Magister, Russell chose that moment to enter the basement. Otherwise, Eric would have pulled his fucking head off—consequences be damned.

The Magister's expression immediately changed from smug satisfaction to surprise as he saw Russell coming down the stairs, pulling a pouting Sophie-Anne behind him.

Russell clapped his hands together once as if he were a director trying to get the attention of his cast and crew. Eric figured that was an accurate simile. After all, Russell was _most definitely _orchestrating things.

Ignoring the Magister, the ancient vampire addressed Eric, "I just love what you've done with the place, my boy! And this basement! Inspired! Why—it's your own little torture chamber/playroom! We absolutely _must_ discuss franchising! You will have to open one in New Orleans—when you get there! And I want one in Jackson, too! Perhaps your child could run that one."

Eric nodded deferentially before his eyes darted to Pam.

"Ah yes," Russell said his own gaze following Eric's, "here is your child now. Pam—correct?"

Russell bowed in the prostrate vampire's direction. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear," he said pleasantly.

"Pleasure's all mine," Pam drawled, despite her obvious pain.

Russell grinned and slapped Eric on the back as if in celebration. "I like her already! Now—let's get her out of those ridiculous chains! Skin like hers ought not to be tarnished with silver! And then—we'll talk some strategy about our new franchise!" He clapped his hands together again.

"What is the meaning of all this?" the Magister asked, finally finding his voice. His confusion at the appearance of the two monarchs was clear.

Annoyed, Russell sneered at the Magister and spoke in a condescending tone—as if the Authority representative were a bug underneath his shoe. "_Your_ purpose here is three-fold. One—you are to shut your goddamned mouth unless I give you permission to open it—because your nasally voice fucking annoys me! It always has! Two—you are to perform my wedding ceremony to my lovely queen here. Three—you are to get the fuck out of my sight and crawl back into your usual hole! Oh—and on your way there—you are to let Northman's progeny go."

Eric seethed on the inside. He had known that Russell's helping him rescue Pam was more of an afterthought than the main objective of the king's "visit" to Fangtasia, but he was still enraged at that thought. Russell needed the Magister to perform his wedding ceremony to Sophie-Anne so that it would be legal and binding among vampires. And Eric had given him the perfect opportunity to find the Magister in a relatively vulnerable position.

The Magister scoffed at Russell's words, "What makes you think I'm going to let Northman's child go? There has been an offense against the blood, and until I have the real culprit or culprits, Northman and his progeny are to blame for it in my eyes."

Russell chuckled. "Well—have no fear. The culprit is here!"

"What are you talking about?" the Magister asked, his face twisted as if he were constipated.

Russell smiled cheekily at Sophie-Anne. "I'm afraid it was my beautiful honey blossom here that was responsible for the V sales. However, she is _very_ sorry and has promised to mend her ways—right my little peach?"

"Sure snookums," Sophie-Anne intoned sarcastically. "You know I will do anything to please you, sugar lips."

"_You_ are responsible for the blood sales?" the Magister exclaimed in Sophie-Anne's direction.

"What? Are you slow?" Sophie-Anne asked, rolling her eyes. "That's what I just said. But I'm very contrite—blah, blah, blah."

The Magister leveled a heavy stare at her. "Then it is _you_ who needs to be on my table." He gestured toward where Pam was still lying prone.

"Enough!" Russell yelled impatiently—as if having any words spoken against his plans caused him to "snap."

Within the next second, the king of Mississippi had freed Pam and had replaced her on the torture table with the Magister. He was wrapped securely in silver. Even Eric had not been able to follow all of Russell's lightning-quick movements.

As Eric reached for Pam and took her into his arms, the Viking once again wondered how in the hell he would ever be able to defeat Russell.

"Master," Pam said weakly as she sank into his embrace. Eric knew that Pam sinking into him for comfort was a clear sign that her torture at the Magister's hands had been very profound indeed. He also knew that she would hate being perceived as weak, especially in front of Sophie-Anne and Russell.

"Go feed on Ginger," Eric ordered in a low tone. "Then, arrange for other donors for our honored guests. Make sure they are of good quality and variety for their majesties. And stay in the bar," he added, not wanting his child to be anywhere near the dungeon at that moment. If things went south and Russell killed the Magister, then there would be consequences for anyone who had been a witness to his final death.

"Ah—yes!" Russell said gleefully. "Thank you, Eric. I foresee that I _will_ be quite parched after I'm done here."

Pam bowed to both of the monarchs as she left the basement at human speed. Eric knew that it was the fastest she could move at the moment, and his anger at the Magister threatened to boil over.

With expert precision, Russell quickly cut off all the Magister's clothing with a small dagger that had been lying on a table that held other implements of torture as well. The king smiled down at the prone man as he picked up the Magister's thin silver sword.

"This is truly lovely. It's Spanish—correct? Made during the Inquisition?"

The Magister didn't answer. His face was contorted in both rage and pain from the silver chains around his neck and knees. Eric couldn't help but to think that the more appropriate emotion would have been fear.

Russell used the sword to open up a shallow, sizzling wound from the Magister's throat to his sternum. The king waited for it to heal—as if he were a scientist following the progress of an experiment. Then he drew another wound in the same spot. Again, he let it heal, and—again—he drew another. After letting it heal a third time, he looked back at the Magister's face.

"Now," Russell said with his voice full of contempt, "you _are_ going to perform a marriage ceremony between me and my queenwithin the next ten minutes, or you are going to become disenfranchised from your mother-fucking head!" He paused and sliced a deeper line in the Magister's body, this time from his throat to his balls. "Which will it be?"

"Why must you be so melodramatic?" Sophie-Anne sighed, the picture of melodrama herself.

Russell glared at her, and Sophie-Anne proved her stupidity once more when she rolled her eyes. Eric, on the other hand, stood motionless and expressionless, every single one of his muscles taut and ready for whatever happened next. The Viking was very much aware of both Russell's power _and_ his insanity in that moment. Luckily for Sophie-Anne, the Magister began speaking, which took the king's attention away from her.

"How dare you!" he half-growled and half-groaned, even as Russell made another cut into his flesh. "When the Authority hears of this," he grunted, "you will be removed from your position as king and placed into silver for a hundred years!"

Russell sneered. "The Authority! Ha! That antiquated institution is on its way out soon enough, and they will _not_ learn of our time here, Jorge, because you will not tell them. Will you?" He made another wound, this time all the way from the Magister's throat to his thigh, before dragging the blunt edge of the silver weapon over the vampire's cock.

Sophie-Anne cringed and wrinkled her nose at the smell of the silver burning the Magister's flesh, but Eric remained stoic.

"Will you, Jorge?" Russell repeated.

When the Magister clenched his jaw to keep himself from speaking or crying out in pain, Russell seemed to momentarily lose his grip on sanity once more.

"So—you wish to," he paused, _play_ _rough_? Good." The king snarled as he picked up another of the Magister's toys, a small silver knife with a bone handle. Soon he was flaying the skin off of the Magister's thigh, and as Russell's knife work approached the tortured vampire's cock, he broke.

"I'll do it!" the Magister yelled out in agony and defeat. "Just let me the fuck off this table!" he begged as blood fell from his eyes.

Eric scoffed. The torture had been going on for only seven minutes at that point. He couldn't help himself as he spoke to the prostrate vampire. "You may be able to dish it out, Magister, but it seems you cannot take it." In that moment, Eric felt pride in his child. She had withstood ten times more agony, and she was hundreds of years younger than the Magister.

"Now, now, Eric," Russell chided almost lovingly. "We were not all designed with a warrior's mentality. And Jorge's decision is a wise one—as I was beginning to lose my patience. After all, we have better things to do this night."

"Of course, my liege," Eric bowed to the elder vampire.

Russell motioned for Eric to take the silver off of the Magister and then allowed the Authority representative a few minutes to compose himself.

The Magister looked up at Eric. "Clothes!" he demanded.

Eric smirked and walked to a closet at the end of the room. He pulled out a sheer, pink woman's robe, which Pam liked to have her pets wear when she was in a "romantic" mood. He threw it at the Magister, who glared and growled at him as Russell laughed gleefully.

"I don't want to have to get married staring at that—_thing_!" Sophie-Anne said, gesturing toward the Magister's sorry excuse for a penis. "And that robe is see-through!"

"Come now," Russell said, "Jorge's cock was just frightened of being cut off." He winked at the Magister. "I'm sure it's generally more impressive than a roll of pennies."

"Eric," Russell said with a chuckle, "would you be a dear and find something that will better cover up the Magister's little friend? It seems that my lovely summer rose is offended by it."

Eric smirked and quickly found the Magister a black sheet to wrap around his waist.

"Will that suffice, sugar plum?" Russell asked Sophie-Anne.

The queen of Louisiana glared at him. "Just great, cupcake!"

"Wonderful!" Russell exclaimed, clapping his hands together once more and then looking expectantly at the Magister.

The broken vampire sighed and then spoke formally, even as the visible parts of his body healed. "Russell Edgington, King of Mississippi, do you pledge yourself to Sophie-Anne Leclerq, Queen of Louisiana?"

"I do," the king answered eagerly, putting his arm affectionately around the shoulders of a disgusted looking Sophie-Anne.

"Sophie-Anne Leclerq, Queen of Louisiana, do you pledge yourself to Russell Edgington, King of Mississippi?"

Sophie-Anne looked like she was about to vomit, but she answered in the affirmative. "I do."

"By the power granted to me by the one, true Vampire Authority . . . ," the Magister started.

"Wait—aren't you forgetting something?" Russell interrupted.

The Magister glared at him.

"Where's your ceremonial knife?" Russell snarled. "I know that you carry it with you at all times. And I know that it is steeped in magic so that it records all ceremonies you conduct with blood."

The Magister's eyes darted to his suit jacket, which he'd hung on the back of a chair before he'd started his torture session with Pam.

Russell motioned for Eric to get the jacket. In the inner pockets of the garment, Eric found the Magister's cell phone and a small leather pouch. Inside of the pouch was a small knife, no more than three inches long from handle to tip.

"Well," Russell sighed, "it's not that impressive—I have to say."

Sophie-Anne giggled. "It looks like he has two _little_ daggers," she said, gesturing toward the Magister's sheet-covered crotch area.

Russell chuckled along with her. "True, my dear. But I suppose that at least one of them is utilitarian."

With a growl, the Magister took the knife from Eric. "Do you have a chalice?" he asked Eric.

The Viking laughed a little and produced a bright red plastic party cup. "Will this do? Or I could go get a wine glass from the bar?" He quirked his eyebrow in Russell's direction.

The king laughed heartily. "No—I think that will make an appropriate 'chalice' for my angel and myself. Don't you agree?" he asked the queen sarcastically.

"Perfect," intoned the redhead.

Nonplussed, the Magister approached Russell and Sophie-Anne. He quickly made shallow wounds on both of their wrists and let the blood drip into the plastic cup. "Drink and bind the pledge," he recited.

Sophie-Anne took a tiny sip of the blood before Russell finished it off. Both seemed unimpressed by the taste of their essences mixed together.

The Magister sneered. "By the power granted to me by the one, true Vampire Authority, I pronounce that you are pledged in marriage for a period of no less than one hundred years."

Russell and Sophie-Anne made movements as if they were kissing each other's cheeks, though neither one of them touched anything more substantial than air.

"The pledge must be consummated before witnesses for the marriage to be legally binding," the Magister said, looking somewhat self-satisfied since he knew that such a "duty" would be most unwelcome to both monarchs before him.

Immediately, Sophie-Anne looked disgruntled, even as Russell's smug expression remained. He chuckled, "I think that my blushing bride and I will forego the usual exchanges of," he paused, "affection."

"You can't do that!" the Magister insisted.

"Oh—but we can," Russell said confidently. "_You_ are going to report to the Authority that you witnessed the consummation after you performed the ceremony, or _I_ am going to pick up where I left off with skinning you alive. Again—the choice is all yours, Jorge."

Russell signaled to Eric, who threw the Magister his phone.

"_NOW_!" Russell's yelled, his voice echoing in the basement. The king once again picked up Magister's sword and held it threateningly.

Defeated, the Magister began to dial.

"Please be so kind as to put the call on speaker," Russell said, his rage-filled tone having been replaced by one of pure congeniality.

Eric studied the Magister for a moment, wondering what he would do. The Magister, Jorge Alonso de San Diego, was reputed for being strong and resilient. He had been turned in the 1500s and had been one of the most feared Inquisitors of the Spanish Inquisition. He'd advised some of the greatest leaders—both human and vampire—throughout history. He carried with him the protection and the sanction of the Authority. A man in that position ought never to succumb to coercion in any form. A man in that position _ought_ to yell out what was really happening as soon as the phone was picked up—whether it cost him his life or not. But that was _not_ what the Magister did.

On the contrary. The Magister kept his voice even and detached as he reported the marriage of Russell Edgington and Sophie-Anne Leclerq. He also indicated that the marriage rites had all been properly adhered to and witnessed by Eric Northman. Finally, he reported that the ceremonial knife had sealed the pledge. Indeed, he was incredibly cooperative—until _after_ he hung up the phone.

At that point, it seemed as if the Magister's self-preservation skills simply left the building. He _should_ have kept his mouth shut, but he didn't.

"You won't get away with this coercion," the Magister seethed, through clenched lips.

Russell laughed flippantly. "I already have."

And with that, the—at least partially insane—king launched himself at the Magister, whose head was separated from his shoulders with one swift swipe of his own sword.

Sophie-Anne recoiled in shock and fear when she realized what Russell had done.

Not really surprised by the king's irrational act, Eric kept his face stoic and nodded his head deferentially so that Russell would not think about taking it too in the midst of his obvious bloodlust.

When Russell nodded back, Eric knew that he'd dodged one bullet and caught one ball. Pam was safe.

However, in that moment, another one of his balls in the air moved further away from him, as his blood in Sookie Stackhouse sensed that she had weakened once more. She was slipping away.

And he could do nothing to help her—at least not while Russell lingered.

Nothing at all!

* * *

**A/N: Hello! First—a huge thanks to everyone who has started this journey with me! Many of you have decided to follow or "favorite" this tale, and every time I get a message indicating that you want to continue along with me, my heart leaps! Also, a special thanks to those who have reviewed! I've enjoyed hearing your words of encouragement and interest! I won't always have time to answer you personally, though I do try to answer comments that contain questions—without giving away too many "spoilers," of course. **

**I know it's a lot to ask of your time, but I really do hope you will keep reviewing (even when I don't always respond). It really does brighten my day!**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**Remember to visit my WordPress for pictures of the cast, etc. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	3. Chapter 3: The Signal

**Chapter 03: The Signal**

Russell's phone rang just as he and Sophie-Anne emerged from the basement. Eric was following close behind.

The three-thousand-year old sighed when he heard the ringtone. "I apologize, muffin cakes," he said in Sophie-Anne's direction. "However, I must take this. I'm afraid Talbot is already quite vexed because of our nuptial bliss, as well as the stress of what happened during the day."

"By all means," Sophie-Anne said with false magnanimity. As soon as Russell's back was turned, she rolled her eyes dramatically in Eric's direction. "What does one do for fun in Podunk?" she asked as she checked her nails. She looked up and saw Yvetta walk in the door. "Oh—I see!" She took in the Estonian dancer predatorily as she licked her lips.

"Ah—that is Yvetta," Eric said as he followed her gaze. "Help yourself," he added offhandedly.

Sophie-Anne quickly zipped over to Yvetta; however, the dancer shrugged off the queen's touch. Instead, the _supposed_ Estonian looked at Eric possessively.

"I cannot. I belong to Eric only," she said in her heavy and probably fake accent. Eric had heard many people from the region of the world that included Estonia, and she didn't sound like any of them.

It was Eric's turn to roll his eyes. He spoke from across the bar. "I never said that, Yvetta. Now—be a good little girl, and be nice to the _queen_ of Louisiana _and_ Mississippi."

Yvetta's eyes immediately changed from offended to almost awestruck as she took in Sophie-Anne again. The gold-digging dancer curtsied, gave her apologies about not knowing who Sophie-Anne was, and then gladly let herself be led to a corner of the club.

At that moment, Pam, who was now mostly recovered thanks to Ginger's donation, came into the club from the back offices. Eric smiled as his progeny complained about the flavor—or lack thereof—in their blond worker. However, as far as humans went, Ginger had—surprisingly enough—proven to be one of the most loyal he had even known. Of course, being glamoured to within an inch of her life helped with that. Still, Ginger's blood had tided both Pam and himself over in a pinch a few times, though the one time he'd had sex with her had _not_ been pleasing. Too many bones had poked him, and she'd called him "baby" over and over. She'd also made noises that made him wonder if she was the offspring of a washed-up porn star and a whooping crane! No—he wouldn't be "enjoying" her again. In fact, he'd glamoured her to "forget" that sex and to never want him again!

"I called in Domitri and Kenneth," Pam said quietly. "I figured Yvetta would be fine for Sophie-Anne."

Eric nodded as he glanced over toward the corner where Yvetta was already servicing the queen's pussy. "Good choices," he said.

Both of the young men Pam had called worked at the bar—Domitri as a dancer and Kenneth as a bouncer. And both were willing donors. Eric had been told that Kenneth, who had B-negative blood, was especially flavorful, though Eric had never tried him. On the other hand, Domitri had a rather ordinary blood type, O-positive, but he was quite limber. Kenneth was quite masculine, while Domitri was effeminate. Both favored men and would service Russell well if he desired sex as well as blood.

Eric just hoped that _he_ would be able to get out of "servicing" the king. The Viking had tried sex with a few men during his long life and had even grown to enjoy the act with Godric; however, it was not his preference. And he—most certainly—wasn't a bottom, and he figured that's what he'd have to "pretend" to be with Russell. Moreover, the thought of having sex with the vampire who was responsible for the murders of his family disgusted him! However, the Viking would do whatever it took to get close enough to Russell to end his miserable life, even if it meant using his body to do it.

Eric's thoughts were interrupted by the Estonian, who was now moaning wantonly from across the room. She was trying to catch his eye with an alluring gaze as Sophie-Anne kissed her neck. It was obvious that Yvetta wanted him to join her and the queen.

Eric turned away, repulsed by Yvetta's misconceptions much more than by her shamelessness. She was deluded if she thought that he actually cared for her. He sighed. After a thousand years of life, one vagina was pretty much like the next to him. Oh, there were nuances in girth and wetness and depth, but they all felt pretty much the same to his dick. No. It was the blood underneath the skin that he really craved, and at the moment of orgasm, it tasted sweetest. Other than the blood's taste during orgasm, very little would compel him to enjoy revisiting the same sexual partner multiple times.

It was the incessant "whooping" sound that Ginger made as well—as her ordinary-tasting O-positive blood—that had made her a one and done in Eric's book. Someone like Yvetta, however, held his attention for longer. The Estonian had inspired him to fuck her four times—though the session in the dungeon had been longer than most because, even having her tied up and at his mercy, he'd not found his release for a while. He had to hand it to Yvetta, however. She had lovely skills with her mouth and even lovelier B-positive blood, but she had begun to annoy the hell out of him with her signs of possessiveness. Who the fuck did she think he was—her boyfriend?

And it was not as if he _craved_ Yvetta's blood or her oral skills. They were above average, a B+ to match her blood type. But—like all women he'd revisited for sex over the years—Yvetta was no longer holding his attention. And, given the sounds that Sophie-Anne was making as she fed, Eric figured he'd be able to convince the queen to take the dancer off his hands.

That nuisance solved, Eric couldn't help but to let his mind wander to the only individual he'd ever been able to fathom holding his attention for long: Sookie Stackhouse.

He had genuinely _craved_ only her during his long life—and that was without even having tasted her yet! He was disgusted with himself—really. He was way too hung up on Sookie! Even now, he was worried about her, instead of focusing a hundred percent of his energy onto Russell!

Again, he noted his own disgust and shock. He should have simply fed from and fucked Sookie months ago—saving himself a lot of fucking stress. But he'd not been able to bring himself to force her; he'd never had to force anyone during his long life, and he wasn't about to start with someone who really intrigued him.

Perhaps, he would have glamoured her if it had been possible. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. No—he didn't want to seduce Sookie through glamour either. He was struck by the thought that he wanted to win her affections, but then pushed that notion out of his mind—angry that he'd had it to begin with.

Still, Eric checked on Sookie through their weak tie. She was obviously still unconscious and seemed to be weakening even more—slipping away from the world and from him. "Fuck," Eric muttered under his breath as Pam looked at him funny. He shook his head, signaling to Pam that now was not the time to ask about what was troubling him.

Eric forced his thoughts of Sookie from his mind. There was nothing he could do for her right now. "_Let Compton deal with her! That is what she would want anyway_," he thought bitterly to himself.

He had more important matters to deal with, like the murderer of his family, who was standing twenty-two feet away from him and talking animatingly in Greek to Talbot. Eric had been monitoring the conversation, which had mostly been focused on Russell reassuring his paramour. Talbot was very angry, given the events of the day. But Russell was managing to slowly placate his lover; the king had even managed to manipulate the younger vampire to view Sophie-Anne's imminent arrival as another opportunity for him to showcase his wonderful hosting skills. It was during that part of the conversation that something caught Eric's attention enough to make him lose his control for a moment. He tensed up considerably. Thankfully, however, Russell had his back turned to the Viking when that happened.

* * *

Pam had been studying her maker carefully, trying to follow his lead.

He was leaning against the bar, casually taking in the scene as Sophie-Anne finger-fucked Yvetta and Russell spoke on the phone. Though she didn't understand Greek, Pam marveled at the fact that Russell still seemed to maintain his genteel Southern accent as he spoke it.

All night—even as the Magister had been "having his fun"—Pam had been trying to interpret the odd mix of feelings coming from her maker. He was concerned, but controlled. He was feeling unimaginable hatred, yet he showed none of it. She was also trying to figure out where the Magister was. He certainly wasn't in the bar with the others; she couldn't help but to wonder if he was still wrapped in silver. The thought of that brought a wry smile to her lips. However, that smile faded immediately as she felt a jolt of anxiety from Eric. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before.

She also noticed a change in his posture. He went from seemingly relaxed to tense in the blink of an eye.

Eric quickly turned toward Pam and gave her a subtle signal with his hands. His eyes were ominous and dark with fear for a moment, but he managed to hide that emotion almost instantaneously.

Pam looked up at Eric with wide eyes and a sudden fear. He repeated the hand signal and mouthed the word, "Now," before turning away and reestablishing his relaxed pose against the bar.

* * *

With fear gripping her un-dead heart, Pam immediately straightened her body and used all her control to walk casually toward the offices and then straight out of the back door of the club. She quickly got into her car and drove it to her nearest house, a residence that acted as her "public" home. After parking in the garage, she quickly stripped and threw her clothing into the washing machine in the garage. She opened the cabinet above the utility sink and grabbed a bundle of nondescript clothing—jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. That clothing had been spelled by a witch so that it would help to cover her scent. After dressing quickly, she exited the side door of the garage.

Then she ran at her top vampire speed to a seemingly abandoned home at the end of the block. Once there, she dug under the elm tree near the garage until she pulled out a small satchel. Inside was a potion, the origins of which Pam did not know. What she did know was that it would hide her scent fully.

She went into the dusty garage and got into the nondescript gray sedan she found there. Then she quickly opened the bottle that held the potion and poured a few drops of the liquid onto the fingers of her left hand before rubbing it onto her forehead—following the directions that had been given to her by her maker to the letter. That task completed, she carefully sealed the bottle and left the neighborhood slowly and quietly, not even turning on the lights of the car.

From there, she drove out of town and got onto State Highway 7. The car was full of gasoline, and she estimated that she would be well into Arkansas by daylight. She would easily make it to the safe house Eric and she kept in that state by morning. From there, she would continue north and then west, changing cars each day, until she reached Wyoming, a state that boasted only two vampires—though they were two vampires that owed Eric their lives—Thalia and Bubba.

Thalia was the "queen" of the state and so unpleasant that she drove all others away. However, Eric had saved her life long before Pam was even turned. The queen of Wyoming was also quite powerful in her own right. Bubba was—well—he was Elvis Presley. The Rock & Roll legend had been turned into a vampire after overdosing. It had been an ill-advised turning.

Bubba was a relatively harmless vampire—_simple_ even. To put it nicely, other vampires would say that he wasn't "all there." After many "Elvis sightings" through the late 70's and 80's, Bubba was shipped to Thalia's territory so that he could stay out of sight. And—even after the Great Revelation—he was told to stay there since vampires didn't want humans to see what happened when a turning went "wrong."

However, even though Bubba was a liability—and had been ever since he was turned—no one had the heart to end him. Though vampires were not sentimental by nature, they did recognize an individual who brought about real change, and Bubba was respected for that. Plus, on occasion, he could be coaxed to an event, where he could be further coaxed into singing. But mostly, he and Thalia kept to themselves—far away from other vampires.

Rumor had it that the two vampire residents of Wyoming had become _very_ cozy indeed, but a love affair had not been confirmed. Thalia didn't like others in her territory, but that was not particularly inconvenient either. Since the human population was the sparsest in the United States and the population density was so low, no other vampires wanted to be there anyway. Simply put, the Authority had decided to make Thalia a queen and then hide her away. And that suited everyone involved quite well.

But none of that really mattered to Pam as she drove with one eye in front of her and the other one constantly checking the rearview mirror. What mattered was Eric's signal to her. He'd taught it to her after she'd been vampire for about a year. And every year following that—like some kind of anniversary—they'd found a deserted place and discussed what that signal meant and the instructions that she was _commanded_ to follow if it were ever given.

The signal meant one thing: run—_fast_. It meant that the danger against them was more than Eric could handle. It meant that he didn't expect to live, but wanted her to get away so that she might. Once seeing that signal, she had been ordered not to ask questions. In fact, she had been commanded not to say anything. She was simply to flee.

The car she was traveling in now contained a load of cash as well as papers for a new identity. The escape plan that she was to follow to the letter had been put into place decades before, though she and Eric had gone over it just the month before—as was their yearly custom.

Each house that would act as a safe house for her trip northwest had been bought by a different glamoured human and was untraceable. At each, was another untraceable car, which was maintained yearly by that same glamoured human. At each were materials that she would use to change her appearance. And once in Wyoming, she would lay low for exactly one year. If she'd not heard from Eric in that time, she would assume her new identity, go to Asia, and begin a new life. She was not to inquire after Eric or to seek him out. And if, in that year, she felt her bond with Eric die or she felt him getting close to her without having _called_ her to him first through their bond, she was to assume that he was dead or compromised and leave the country immediately.

Now, as she enacted the plan, Pam was more frightened than she'd ever been during her whole existence. But she _had_ to obey her master. She _had_ to leave him. Her maker's command gave her no other choice in the matter.

Pam sighed and bit one of her perfectly manicured nails before cursing herself.

She tried to calm herself. She knew that Eric always had his own escape route, but she'd never been privy to it. Both of them knew that she could withstand a lot of torture without breaking, but she was also quite young, and—according to her maker—_everyone_ could be made to break. If she was found by whatever threat Eric now thought was after them, then she would be tortured until she was forced to tell where Eric was if she knew it. Luckily, her vampire gift was the ability to shut down her end of her bond with her maker. Thus, Eric could not be forced to lead anyone to her using their blood connection; however, he knew of her initial safe haven, so if she felt him nearing, she would need to run again and then shut down their connection.

Pam took a deep breath and accelerated just a bit, though she kept to within five miles per hour of the speed limit. It would not do for her to draw any attention to herself now. She needed to be invisible.

Four hours later, she reached Mena, Arkansas, a little town about midway between Texarkana and Fort Smith. She drove slowly into the neighborhood of the safe house, using all the lessons her master had taught her in order to make sure that the location hadn't been compromised. Satisfied, she pulled a garage door opener out of the glove compartment and opened the garage door. She parked next to the light blue sedan, which would take her on the next leg of her journey.

Without turning on any house lights, Pam collected her bag and went into the house. There was a small light-tight space under the floorboards in the pantry. Pam hurriedly crawled into the space. Knowing that she needed to conserve her scent-covering potion, she decided against taking a shower. She'd do it the next night. Once she was settled, Pam double-checked that she had the money and documents needed for her trip.

It was still a few minutes before the sun rose, but Pam sank back into the small pillow that served as her only comfort in the little crawl space. For the first time since she'd left Fangtasia, she let herself relax a little. The vampiress took a long, deep breath that she did not need and prayed to a God that she did not believe in. She didn't know why Eric had made her run, but whatever it was scared the proverbial shit out of her.

She closed her eyes and checked her bond with her maker. The good news was that Eric had not tried to close it down at any point during the night, which meant that he had not been tortured. He was also relatively calm—though his emotions had been a slingshot for much of the time since she'd left him.

She could only guess what had been happening to him.

* * *

**A/N: Well—I hope you liked Chapter 3. Sorry for the little cliffie (not really), but we'll find out what Eric's been up to and why he gave Pam "the signal" in the next chapter, which I'll get to you as soon as I can. **

**I'd like to thank all of you—once again—for placing this story on your "alert" or "favorites" list! And special thanks to reviewers/commenters for taking the time to let me know what you think. Your words help to keep me motivated and excited.**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**P.S. As always, pics are available on my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	4. Chapter 4: Flight

**Chapter 04: Flight**

_Four hours and ten minutes earlier_

Russell snapped his phone shut and sauntered back over to Eric, who was leaning casually against the bar and watching Yvetta eat out Sophie-Anne as if it were a stage show.

Nothing about Eric's demeanor betrayed his own apprehension, though inside, the Viking couldn't help but to be frightened. He figured that the chances were great that he was about to meet his true death. He hoped that he could at least offer his child the time she would need to flee. And he was comforted by the fact that he felt her moving farther and farther from him by the second.

Regardless, Eric's acting ability during the next few moments would determine whether he lived or died. He called upon a thousand years of control and tilted his head, seemingly to better take in the actions of Yvetta and Sophie-Anne.

"Her blood is exquisite, your majesty," Eric said, giving Russell a little bow. "I know you prefer men, but you might, perhaps, take a taste at some point." He motioned toward Yvetta. "She's also quite skilled in the art of giving oral pleasure, as you can hear from Sophie-Anne."

Russell glanced over at the writhing women with disgust. He turned back to Eric. "Lesbianism has never appealed to me, I'm afraid. However, I might take you up on your offer for her blood—_after_ my lovely wife is done with her, that is."

Eric smirked and gave another little bow of the head. Inside, he was happy to note that Pam was now moving past the Shreveport city limits.

"Where did your progeny go, Northman?" Russell asked casually.

Eric answered just as nonchalantly. "I suspected that Yvetta might not be to your liking, so I sent Pam to hurry along a couple of donors you might like better." Internally, Eric celebrated as Domitri and Kenneth walked through the door from the back of the bar. Perhaps the donors would distract Russell.

The Viking nodded toward the newcomers. "The larger one is a bouncer here. His blood is delicious—a rare find. He's from Tasmania originally, so his blood tastes of few pollutants."

"Ah—fresh as mountain spring water," Russell said jokingly. "And the other? I like the looks of him."

"He is called Domitri. I'm afraid he's quite bland compared to the fare that was presented to us by Talbot, my liege. However, what he lacks in flavor, he more than makes up for in other ways," Eric leered suggestively. "He was a gymnast at one point—I believe."

"Mmmm," Russell said, licking his lips in the direction of the two male donors. "Your hospitality is appreciated, Northman. I would, however," he turned his head back in Eric's direction, "like to thank your progeny personally for arranging such a tribute."

Eric kept his expression indifferent, other than the tiny smirk he allowed to push up the corner of his mouth. "I imagine that she is feeding as well, my liege. I gave her leave to do so after she secured your meal. She drank from one of our barmaids earlier—in order to heal her worst wounds—but she found the taste unsatisfying. She had hoped to have sated herself with Yvetta, but as you can see," he said motioning toward the corner, "Yvetta had another offer."

Eric chuckled. "If I know Pam, she is probably in a similar position as Sophie-Anne―even now. After that, she is to make sure all traces of our 'guest' downstairs are removed." In actuality, Eric had texted Chow to come to the bar in two hour's time to perform the clean-up and to take the Magister's remains to a nearby alligator farm.

Russell looked into Eric's eyes searchingly, but then chuckled. For just a moment, Eric thought he saw recognition in Russell's eyes, but the Viking held his countenance.

Russell spoke casually, "Talbot says that you enjoyed my collection of artifacts."

"Quite," Eric answered without missing a beat, though he was careful not to sound overly enthusiastic. "You have many lovely pieces. The Japanese vampire erotica was especially," Eric leered at Russell, "instructive."

Russell smiled. "Talbot was surprised that you seemed to show the most interest in a little crown I'd picked up in Scandinavia."

"Ah—yes," Eric said unconcernedly, though with a little interest in his tone. "It is rare that I come across Viking artifacts that are so well-preserved. As you know, my original people were not ones for the preservation of relics." He chuckled. "We tended to burn our things with the dead."

"A terrible waste," Russell said with a smirk.

"Yes," Eric agreed, "though—even at the time, I don't believe I ever saw a crown as fine as the one you have. I grew up in a relatively poor village, and any metal we got our hands on was used to forge weapons." He paused. "So it was a treat to see your relic."

Russell nodded. "I took that crown from a minor ruler in what is now Sweden—from a town near the North Sea. That must have been," Russell paused and looked at Eric significantly, "a little more than a thousand years ago."

The Viking nodded. "Ah—that would account for the unusual shape of the crown. My own people were from what is now Norway. Still—the crown is lovely and reminded me of my human days for a few moments."

"Perhaps I should make a gift of it to you then?" Russell asked, his voice almost snakelike.

Eric bowed a bit. "It would be an honor, your majesty," he said evenly, "one that I would gladly accept. However, I would not wish to see your collection broken up."

Russell gestured in such a way as to indicate that the gift would be nothing even as he continued to study Eric's face. "Trust me, that particular piece is of _little_ value to me; it never has been."

Using all of his strength and control, Eric nodded noncommittally. "Then, I would love to accept it—if you are certain."

Luckily, before Russell could further comment, Sophie-Anne let out a satisfied scream, indicating her orgasm.

Eric looked over toward the corner.

"Perhaps we should be on our way now that my queen has finished her meal," Russell said with a disgusted look on his face.

Eric smirked. "You may have the young men as 'take-out' if you wish, your majesty. I'm certain that they would make the trip to Mississippi pass more," he paused, "pleasurably. Will I have the pleasure of accompanying you as well?" he asked Russell with a hope-filled toned.

Russell smirked. "Sadly—no."

Eric forced disappointment to wash over his face for a moment.

"I have a quick errand to see to _before_ I return to Mississippi. It seems that your Miss Stackhouse has escaped, along with her friend, Miss Thornton. Bill Compton is also missing. Would you have any ideas about Miss Stackhouse's location?"

Eric, still struggling to keep up his act and to maintain his casual stance, smirked. "Ah, the intrepid Miss Stackhouse strikes again. I did tell you that she was something," he paused, "_unique_."

"So true," Russell grinned.

"I would check her residence first if I were you," Eric said. "I will give you the address—if you do not already have it. It is actually across the cemetery from Compton's residence. She loves him to such a great distraction that she will likely be where he is."

"The file Mott collected also mentions a brother—a Jason Stackhouse."

Eric nodded as if digging for a file from his own memory. "Yes. Jason Stackhouse is a nice looking man, but his blood doesn't smell like his sister's—I'm afraid. They have been somewhat estranged, I think. For a while he was affiliated with the Fellowship of the Sun, but I believe that he is back in Bon Temps now." Eric knew that he was telling Russell things that Mott would have reported to him already, but there was also a part of him that intuited how distraught Sookie would be if her brother were harmed so he downplayed the closeness of their relationship.

"I would place surveillance on Jason Stackhouse if you don't find Sookie immediately," Eric said, speaking pragmatically. "She will eventually contact him—or he will lead you to her. He is not the brightest human. You may also wish to place surveillance on Sam Merlotte, a shifter in Bon Temps. He is Sookie's employer." Eric knew that that information, too, would be in Mott's file. And—of course—if the king chose to have the shifter and Sookie's brother followed, then they wouldn't be harmed.

Russell took in Eric's words and nodded, even as he continued to regard the Viking closely.

Eric thought about his options; unfortunately, at this moment, there was only one. He needed to keep his composure, or the already suspicious king would kill him without a second thought.

Had his responses to Russell's questions quelled the suspicions that Eric intuited had been rising in the king? Or had Russell searched through his long-ago memories and stumbled upon the young Viking, who had looked straight at him following the deaths of his family. Russell had taken a moment to warn him not to follow—not to be a hero. Russell had been cloaked, so Eric hadn't seen his face, but Eric had not been disguised in any way. He'd been a few years younger then—than at the time of his turning. And his hair had been longer. However, other than some dirt on his face, he'd looked virtually the same.

_No_—Eric thought, trying to comfort himself. If Russell had recognized him, he'd already be dead.

However, Eric was not naïve. And he certainly wasn't an optimist. Russell had all the dots he needed now, and it would only be a matter of time before he connected them. Nothing could prevent that now. His father's crown would lead the ancient vampire to his memory of taking it, and that would inevitably lead him to remember the young man who had wanted so desperately to avenge the deaths of his parents and sister, but who had been unable to act in that moment.

Eric own memories as a vampire were all vivid, like a storehouse of perfectly preserved files, just waiting to be accessed. Thus, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Russell now held the keys to linking him to that Viking teen from a thousand years before. The only question was _when_ that would happen.

When it did, Eric would be dead—if he were still in the king's range.

Eric spoke, "I will take you to Sookie Stackhouse's home if you wish. I have been there once and still have an invitation—_unless_ she has been clever enough to rescind it. However, she is likely too trusting to have done that."

"And why would she trust you enough to invite you into her home?"

"She invited me in so that I could kill a Werewolf that was planning to attack her. I'm afraid I didn't know he was one of yours. Apologies, your majesty."

Russell cackled a little and slapped Eric on the back in almost a brotherly way. "Well—no worries! Wolves are a dime a dozen these days," he winked.

"So—shall we go to the telepath's home?" Eric asked nonchalantly.

"No—I have another, more pressing task for you," Russell said with an almost patronizing air. "I trust that your child can take care of Area 5's business."

Eric nodded. "Yes, of course, your majesty. She is a good lieutenant."

"Good," Russell said. "Have her see to your duties. I want you to join Talbot. He is," Russell paused, "currently distraught and needs a good distraction." Russell leered at Eric.

The Viking bowed. "Of course."

"Good. You have the ability to fly—is that correct?" he asked.

Eric nodded. "Indeed."

"Excellent. Then I want you to go to Mississippi tonight and placate Talbot. I suppose you can be there before dawn?"

Eric nodded again. "Of course—probably about half an hour before if I leave now."

Russell nodded. "Good. I will stay in the area tonight." He paused. "Of course, I'll expect Talbot to be in good spirits when I return home with the Stackhouse girl and my new bride tomorrow night."

Eric smiled, "I will make sure of it, your majesty. And may I offer you my residence to stay in tomorrow during the day?"

Russell grinned, "That would be lovely. I had already planned on using it. I know the location from Franklin's work.

Eric smiled wider. "Mr. Mott is quite thorough, but which address did he supply you with?"

Russell smirked. "3471 Wister Road."

Eric nodded. "That is a comfortable residence, but not my most luxurious or secure, your majesty." Eric grabbed a pad and wrote down two other addresses. "Both of these are better suited for someone such as yourself."

Russell looked at Eric through narrowed eyes. Of course, Eric knew that Russell would probably already know of these homes as well, but even if he didn't, neither one was what Eric considered his _essential_ residence. They were more secret than the property on Wister Road, so they might serve to deflate Russell's suspicions of him for a little while; however, Eric generally didn't die for the day at either of those residences, nor did he keep anything important there.

Eric bowed. "I will be on my way now, your majesty, unless you require anything else of me."

Russell shook his head. "After I take care of Miss Stackhouse, I will enjoy the donors you have procured, and if they are worthy, perhaps I will take them as a gift for my Talbot."

Eric nodded and bowed once more to his king—his enemy.

Russell looked Eric up and down. "You may go," he dismissed.

Eric walked quickly toward the back door of the club—but not too quickly. Once the door was opened, he smelled the night air and took off into it, flying on a path that would lead him to Mississippi and Russell's mansion.

He'd been flying only a few minutes when he picked up the scent of another vampire—a faster vampire. The scent was behind him, but he didn't deviate from his path. The Viking had been expecting this. Eric closed his eyes as he continued flying at a consistent rate. His superior sense of smell, one of his vampire gifts which he'd kept a closely guarded secret—to the point that only Godric had known of it—told him exactly who the other vampire was: Russell.

He knew that the elder vampire was checking up on him—that Russell had begun to suspect that things were not quite as they seemed with him.

Russell followed Eric for a while—though he stayed quite far behind him. Eric figured that he was at the edge of the king's range, so there would be no reason for the three-thousand-year-old vampire to suspect that Eric could smell him as well. In fact, Eric knew of none who had as acute of a sense of smell as himself, though Russell was the oldest vampire he'd ever met.

Eric knew that it was a time of reckoning. Once Russell connected Eric to the young Viking who had just lost his family, the king would not hesitate to kill him. However, even if Russell just suspected that Eric had been hiding something from him, his nights would be numbered. And there wasn't a damned thing the Viking could do about it, so he flew on, straight toward Mississippi and Talbot as if he were following Russell's orders like a good little lapdog.

The Viking had flown another twenty miles before Russell turned back. He flew another twenty before he stopped and backtracked—just to make sure that the king was not still on his trail.

Eric hovered for a moment, making even more certain that Russell was not still pursuing him. He sighed with relief. He was clear. All he needed to do was to fly away—to go to the first place on his escape route—where he would cover his scent and then disappear.

But he didn't.

Sookie was weaker than even before, and his blood inside of her was calling to him. It told him that Sookie would soon die. "Loving" its position inside of her—where it had tied itself to her own cells—his blood called for him to come and save her, to pour more of himself into her body in order to guarantee that her life went on. Eric shivered at the sensation of his own blood calling him from Sookie's body. He'd never—in all of his thousand years—felt anything similar. His flight toward Mississippi had put him closer to her location, and with every mile, her blood had pulled him more. Or was it _his_ blood pulling him. He could no longer tell.

He closed his eyes. He had a choice to make. He could flee and ensure his own safety. Or he could go to Sookie Stackhouse. In the end, he gave it very little thought, his body automatically leading him in the direction it _needed_ to go.

* * *

**A/N: Hi! Thanks to all who have been commenting on, favoriting, and alerting this story! As you can see, you all have gotten me excited about this one, so the chapters have been flowing! **

**I plan to try to get you one more chapter this week—before turning to **_**Touch the Flame**_** for a week. If you were keeping track of **_**Comfortably Numb**_**, then you know that I am planning to rotate stories week to week in order to keep things "fresh" in my brain.**

**However, I can't leave this one before giving you your first glimpse of this story's Sookie—can I? NOPE. **

**XOXO,**

**Kat**

**P.S. Remember that there are pictures of the cast, etc. on my WordPress site. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	5. Chapter 5: The Blood

**Chapter 05: The Blood**

Eric felt Sookie dying—slipping away. She felt—well—he didn't really know how to describe it. She felt far away—_very_ far away—even though she was close.

He landed on the hospital roof and easily broke the lock to get inside. His blood in her and his nose led him straight to her.

When he entered the hospital room, he saw a sight that almost made his blood freeze in his veins. Sookie Stackhouse—whose warm, sun-kissed skin had always captivated him—looked paler than any vampire he'd ever seen. She was hooked up to monitors, and IV's were pumping saline and medicine into her body. There was a tube down her throat doing her breathing for her; Eric heard the false apparatus sending oxygen into her lungs at even intervals.

"Ah—fuck no!" came a voice from his side.

Eric turned to see Sookie's friend, Tara Thornton, shaking her head.

"You get the fuck away from her! All you vamps just stay the fuck away! You're fucking poison! Parasites! It's all y'alls fuckin' faults that she's like this!"

Eric ignored Tara and turned his attention to Alcide Herveaux and Lafayette Reynolds, who were sitting next to the window in the good-sized hospital room. At least they both seemed relatively calm—as opposed to Miss Thornton.

"What happened?" Eric asked, looking straight at Alcide. "You were supposed to look after her!"

The large Were cringed a bit in fear, but when he stood up, his posture conveyed the fact that he was ready to fight if needed.

"I helped Sookie and Tara escape from Edgington's estate this morning," he defended. "We got Compton out too. But he attacked Sookie, who was with him in the back of my truck. He practically drained her dry before we got to her." He motioned between himself and Tara.

"You let Sookie stay with an almost-drained vampire in the back of your truck—alone!" Eric seethed with barely controlled rage.

"It was daytime!" he defended. "And she insisted."

Eric scoffed and looked down at Sookie. Immediately, his expression softened a little. "Of course, she insisted." His fingers itched to reach out and smooth down her hair, but he refrained.

Lafayette spoke next. "Sook's gonna die 'cause she ain't got no blood type." His voice betrayed his shock. "She's lost too much blood, and we's losing her 'cause they ain't got no blood that her body'd take."

Eric nodded. "She _is_ slipping away. I can feel it." He sighed and looked at Jason Stackhouse, who was sitting silently in the corner of the room. "You are her brother, Stackhouse," Eric said evenly. "I can give her my blood and save her, or she _will_ die. But I will _not_ give her my blood without permission." He sighed and looked back down at her. "Not again."

"Ah—hell no!" Tara said. "Blood suckers are the reason Sookie is here to start with!"

Eric nodded at the woman. "Yes. But I am currently the blood sucker who is willing to open up his own wrist and save her life. If you wish to wait, however, I expect Compton will soon arrive. Perhaps you would prefer that her _attacker_ give Sookie his blood—that is, if she makes it that long."

Tara and Alcide stiffened noticeably.

"That mother fucker ain't gettin' anywhere near Sookie!" Tara yelled.

Eric smirked at her. She was fierce, and Eric found himself liking her to a certain extent. "Then—it is me or nothing." He looked at Jason. "Decide—for I will _not_ force this. I already misled your sister into taking my blood once, and I have since," Eric paused and continued at a quieter volume, "wondered if I ought _not_ to have done so."

"It'll tie her to him," Alcide informed, looking at Eric accusingly.

"Yes," Eric confirmed, "but I am already tied to her through my blood. That is why I am here. That is why Bill _will_ come. I am surprised he has not already," Eric confessed, looking at each of the people gathered in the room by turns before settling his gaze back onto Sookie. Aside from the wires and tubes, she looked like Sleeping Beauty out of the fairy tale, but the Viking wouldn't fool himself into thinking that he was the prince in the story—even if he was there to save her life. He'd not wanted to be a prince—or a goddamned king—in his human days. And he'd _certainly_ never qualified for that label as a vampire.

"We left Bill in the sun to burn!" Tara said.

Eric nodded, though he kept his gaze fixed on the woman who lay dying before them. "Then I hope he _did_ burn—for Sookie's sake. Meanwhile, however," he said, looking back at Tara, "that does _not_ help Sookie now."

Jason looked up at Eric. "Will she really die if you don't help her?"

Eric sighed and nodded. "I believe so. She is weakening more and more by the moment, and she feels very," he paused, "far away from here—from me."

"He could be lying!" Tara accused.

Eric nodded again. "Yes, I could be. But I am not. In fact, it is probably my blood in her that is holding her here even now. I feel that it is," Eric paused, "_working_ very hard to keep her with us."

"Your blood couldn't do that," Alcide said.

Eric shrugged. "Who knows what all the blood can do? I am just telling you what I feel."

"Well—then why isn't your blood healing her?" Tara asked.

"She took only drops from me," Eric said. "And that was several weeks ago."

Jason stood up from his chair, seeming to have come to a decision. "Do it," he said quietly.

Eric nodded and reached for the tube feeding saline into Sookie's body. He yanked it out of the machine and quickly stuck it into his arm—even as Tara and Alcide protested. Lafayette held back his cousin, and Eric couldn't help but to wink at the man. Lafayette shivered a little and pulled himself and Tara back a few steps.

Eric's estimation of Jason Stackhouse went up exponentially when he told the Were and Tara to shut the fuck up when they continued to protest. Meanwhile, Eric turned his attention back to Sookie as his blood reached her veins. He felt every drop going into her body, each one rejoicing at being there.

For him, that was another new experience. And he couldn't help but to wonder what her blood would feel like in him.

He flexed his arm and sent more blood into her—one pint and then a second—even as the fingers of his opposite hand ghosted against hers. It was those fingers of hers that he felt moving first. In turn, their movement moved him to smile—the first sincere smile to pass his lips in a very long time.

Her eyes fluttered open.

His smile sneaked up even more as her brown eyes locked into his blues. For a moment, they took in only each other. Their eyes were soft, and her fingers took his hand.

He heard himself speaking even though he'd not intended to say a word yet. "I lied to you at Russell's mansion, Sookie Stackhouse."

Sookie blinked as if to acknowledge his words—and the apology behind them. They both knew the moment he was referring to—the moment when he'd claimed not to care for her.

He took the tube out of his arm and then hers before pricking his finger with his fang and rubbing a little blood onto the spot where the IV had been. She still had another one in her other arm, but since it was feeding her pain medicine, he left it in.

"I will remove this now," he said, gesturing toward the tube in her throat.

She nodded.

"You should—I believe—blow out as I pull. Agreed?" Eric asked, as the others in the room looked on in stunned silence at the gentle demeanor of the Viking vampire.

Sookie nodded again, this time nervously.

He moved one of his hands gently to her forehead even as the other gripped the breathing tube. "Ready?" he asked, as he stroked her hair.

She nodded a third time and then blew out as he removed the tube. As the tube was expelled, she sputtered and coughed. She choked out a little thanks and motioned towards the pitcher next to the hospital bed. Eric quickly picked it up, only to find it empty. He zipped into the bathroom to refill it.

When he returned, Sookie Stackhouse, who now held more of his blood than any other being ever had—with the exception of Godric when he'd drained Eric and Pam when Eric had made her—was now sitting propped up on a pile of pillows. She was surrounded by four bodies, three human and one Were.

In that moment, something made Eric feel like an intruder—an intruder in her blood, an intruder in her life, an intruder in a room full of people who were capable of showing Sookie that they cared for her.

Only Alcide noticed that he'd reentered the room, but the Were did nothing except take Sookie's hand and glare at him.

Eric set the pitcher down and quietly left the hospital room even as he used his blood in Sookie to monitor her progress. His blood was moving around her body, looking for what needed to be healed. There were bruises and torn skin on Sookie's wrist and neck where a vampire had bitten and torn into her flesh. But mainly there was the loss of her own blood, so his blood was "filling in the blanks" as Eric completed his assessment of her condition.

He sneered as he "saw" Bill's blood inside of Sookie. It seemed to be flowing through her as vampire blood normally flowed through a human—slowly, as if charting its target. His own blood had always been more active in Sookie than he'd imagined a vampire's blood could be, based on what his maker and others had told him.

But—when it came to Sookie—Eric had found that nothing ever seemed to work the way it usually would have.

In general, a vampire had the ability to maintain quite a bit of control over his or her blood in a human's body. That was how vampires who created ties could track humans. They simply "looked for" their own blood. That was also how vampires could influence humans' feelings. They used their blood to "nudge" hormones, endorphins, adrenaline, etc.

A vampire could also control the healing influence of his blood—at least to a certain extent. And, though Eric hadn't practiced the skill much—since he'd not often given humans his blood—he found that his blood instinctively knew what Sookie needed most.

After completing his assessment of the damage to her body, Eric "sent" his blood to her bone marrow and "told it" to produce more red blood cells to make Sookie stronger. He closed his eyes as he walked to the nurses' station. Noticing that Sookie's blood was still not flowing as fast as it should have been, he activated the magic in his blood to give it a boost.

Then he sent other drops of his blood to spur on white blood cells to quickly heal Sookie's wrist and neck bites. Of course, his blood would have done this anyway—automatically—but Eric found that he was able to quicken things.

Eric had been able to do something similar with Lafayette's infected gunshot wound; however, he found that he had much more control over Sookie's healing—just as he could control his blood when he needed to heal.

He listened in to Sookie's body again. Her heart rate was now stronger—a little below her normal level, but definitely not dangerously low as it had been. Her body temperature was also a little low, but that was fine—good news in fact. It meant that she had no infections. And her circulation was now better. Still—she could use more of his blood; she would heal on her own now, but it would take days for her to feel "normal," and she would be weak until then. He wondered if she would take more.

He wondered if he should even offer.

He had already saved her life, and he _should_ have been making his exit. Every moment counted if he wanted to escape Russell Edgington, and the hours before dawn were becoming fewer and fewer. Eric knew that Russell would likely call Talbot exactly thirty minutes before dawn in order to see if Eric had made it to mansion. And when he didn't show up, Russell would still have plenty of time to set his dogs on Eric's trail.

The Viking sighed.

Yes. He _should_ have been fleeing instead of checking on his blood inside of Sookie, yet he was not.

Eric got to the nurses' station and immediately caught the eye of a young brunette who was working on a chart. The glamoured nurse was extremely "helpful" in showing him Sookie's chart, which he took from her and quickly "adjusted." The nurse was also extremely helpful in showing him the computer record of Sookie's visit. Thanks to a constant willingness to adapt to technology, Eric didn't need much help from there. He couldn't erase the patient record fully because of a failsafe in the system, but he had no problem changing a few things. Soon—he had Sookie's name out of the system. To anyone asking, a Jane Lockart had come in that day. She'd been bitten by a dog. He accounted for the problem they had typing her blood by labeling it as a "lab error." However, Jane Lockart had quickly recovered, thanks to a donation of blood from her brother, and had been discharged as of twenty minutes before.

Eric finished scanning Sookie's chart and discovered that the brunette woman in front of him had been working a double shift. He then asked the glamoured nurse to page the doctor and the other nurse listed in Sookie's chart. After Eric had glamoured them, he zipped to the lab and glamoured the tech. He then took all samples of Sookie's blood and destroyed them, pissed off that the hospital staff had taken even a drop of her blood to study, given the fact that she'd almost died from blood loss!

He fucking hated hospitals! He always had.

Satisfied that all traces of Sookie were now gone, Eric went back up to her room.

She was still surrounded by her friends, and he still felt like an intruder there, but he also felt compelled to speak to her—to offer her more blood at the very least—and then he needed to get the hell out of there.

He spoke from the doorway. "Sookie, I need to talk with you privately for a few minutes." He stepped into the room as her eyes, which had been soft before, greeted him with the kind of suspicion that was her more usual look for him. For some reason, that expression hurt him more than it ever had before, and keeping his countenance steady with her was even more difficult than it had been with Russell.

"Hell no!" Tara said harshly. "There ain't no way in hell that we're gonna leave you alone with a fucking vamp!"

"That's right, Sook," Alcide said, still gripping her hand. Eric could tell that she was squeezing his hand back.

The vampire felt his controlled expression slipping again and had to harness his emotions even more tightly. Was Sookie frightened of him? Had she already moved on to another man—to Alcide? Would she never see that Eric wouldn't harm her—_couldn't_—no matter how much it might have been in his own best interests to do so?

The clear mistrust that was in Sookie's eyes caused Eric to step back as if he'd been pushed—or silvered.

He looked right into those accusing brown eyes and swallowed the pride he'd held onto so tightly for all of his life. He hated her in that moment, yet he still could not leave her. He steeled himself and spoke steadily—evenly. "I must leave soon, Sookie. I would like for you to have more of my blood before I go. Even if you will not hear what I wish to say to you, you should take the blood. You are still weak."

"I fucking told you so!" Tara yelled. "I told you that he'd try to get even more of his blood into you so that he could manipulate you!"

"The more blood he's got in you, the more control he'll have," Alcide seconded.

"Is that true, Eric?" Sookie's soft voice cracked a little more with each word of her short question to him.

"Son of a bitch," Eric muttered, looking at the pitcher still full of water on the table—right where he'd left it. "Can't you people see a fucking thing? Or do a fucking thing? I've been gone for ten fucking minutes!"

Quickly, Eric zipped to the table where he'd left the water. He ignored the shuffling and angry muttering of the others as he poured Sookie a cup and shoved Alcide and Tara out of his way. He held the straw to her lips.

* * *

Eric's actions had occurred so rapidly and Sookie was still so groggy that she registered him moving from the door to her side in only a moment.

The quickness of it all startled her, and she shrank back a bit. That's when she saw it—just a flicker in his eyes. She'd hurt him when she'd recoiled from him.

She'd not been expecting that—not from him.

"Sorry," she stammered in a throaty voice as she saw the water in his hand. "You just startled me. You moved quick. I'm sorry."

It didn't matter by then, however. Eric had already recovered, and his steely look was back. "You need water," he said evenly. "The tube will have made your throat raw, and I forgot to . . . ." His voice trailed off as he cursed himself for not tending to that wound with his blood sooner. In truth, Eric had been "looking" so hard for the problems that had brought her into the hospital, that he'd not thought about the problems that would have been caused by Sookie's treatment. Immediately, he ordered a bit of his blood to her throat to sooth it.

She drank obediently as the vampire held the straw to her mouth. Her fingers eventually came up to take the cup, and for a moment, their fingers touched. Eric had felt her touch before a few times, but never like this—never with his blood working so hard inside of her. For a split second, he closed his eyes to the sensation and then let go of the water cup and took a step back.

"Thanks," Sookie said when she was done with her drink. "What did you forget?" she asked, her voice already stronger.

"I forgot to tell your friends that I had brought the water," he lied.

Sookie's eyebrows furrowed as if she were trying to work out a mystery, and Eric couldn't help but to wonder if his blood in her was "denying" his words—"confessing" to her that he was lying. He'd never heard of that happening unless there was a bond, which required three exchanges, but—again—with Sookie, he wouldn't be surprised if yet another _rule_ were broken.

To escape her appraising gaze, Eric quickly glanced around the room. Everyone there was watching him as if he were about to tear out Sookie's throat. He wondered if she thought the same, but he made himself look back at her anyway.

"I need to speak to you alone—just for a few minutes," he tried again.

"Okay," she said her eyes going back and forth between mistrust and thankfulness. "Go ahead—but this is my family; what you say to me can be said to them."

* * *

**A/N: Yes—I know that Sookie's stubbornness at the end of this chapter will likely irk many of you; however, consider what she's been through. And—remember that her last interaction with Eric didn't exactly go well. She's still processing the fact that she was almost killed. Just give her a few minutes before you hate on her too much. At least, she won't have more of Bill's blood influencing her.**

**Thanks everyone for the wonderful comments on the last chapters! I'm so thankful for the reception of this story thus far. **

**So-as I said before, I'm going to be working on my other story **_**Touch the Flame**_** for the next week, but I'll be back with chapters of **_**Uninvited**_** the week after that! I can tell you that there are currently 35 chapters in this story (I plotted them out yesterday). **

**Up next? Eric helps Sookie see some truths. And he offers her a choice. **

**And coming soon after? An unwelcome visitor to the hospital…I bet you can guess who it is…..**

**Best,**

**Kat**

**P.S. Don't forget to visit my blog to see pics if you want. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	6. Chapter 6: A Revolutionary Act

**Chapter 06: A Revolutionary Act**

"_**In a time of universal deceit—telling the truth is a revolutionary act."—George Orwell**_

_To escape her appraising gaze, Eric quickly glanced around the room. Everyone there was watching him as if he were about to tear out Sookie's throat. He wondered if she thought the same, but he made himself look back at her anyway. _

"_I need to speak to you alone—just for a few minutes," he tried again._

_ "Okay," she said her eyes going back and forth between mistrust and thankfulness. In the end stubbornness won out. "Go ahead—but this is my family; what you say to me can be said to them."_

Eric knew of Sookie's stubbornness well. He also knew that he could _not_ say everything he wanted to say in front of the people in that room. In truth, he couldn't believe that he wanted to say his intended words to any being—living or undead.

No. His most "costly" words would be for Sookie Stackhouse, or they would be for no one.

But he could say _some_ things in front of the others, and after that—well—he would either leave, or she would agree to speak to him in private for a moment. He took in the faces in the room again. Jason Stackhouse looked a bit frazzled, as if still in shock. Tara Thornton was looking at him with pure hatred in her eyes. Lafayette looked cautious and a little afraid of him. And Alcide Herveaux looked satisfied, probably because he'd just been lumped in with Sookie's _family_ after only a short acquaintance with her.

"Very well," Eric began, "I will speak of some things in front of the audience you have set for me. Russell Edgington, the three-thousand-year-old vampire king of Mississippi and now Louisiana, is probably at your home in Bon Temps even as I speak. He intends to hunt you down, kidnap you, and use you. And—trust me—you would _not_ escape again. He is not happy that Lorena is dead, nor is he happy that you freed Compton, for whom he is also searching."

Eric watched as concern for Bill flooded Sookie's eyes. But he kept his countenance steady. He had to. When he looked at the woman in the hospital bed before him, his body and mind ached for something he'd never found—something that every bit of his blood longed for.

Something he couldn't even name.

But seeing her worry for Bill told him that all of his secret hopes and fantasies were just bullshit illusions.

Sookie had _not_ been waiting for him to come to her in Jackson. She had _not_ opened the window of the room she'd been staying in at the Were's apartment. She had _not_ invited him in and joked with him about his ability to fly or her inability to sing. She had _not_ told him that _he_ was the one that she really wanted. She had _not_ looked at him as if she could see into his dead soul and yet still wanted him. She had _not_ swept his jacket from his shoulders or kissed him with more passion than anyone ever had. She had _not_ pushed him back onto her bed with the intention of fucking him—let alone making love to him.

All of those things had been mere tricks of his imagination—fictions that he would never be able to live out. He hated the part of himself that had concocted them to begin with. And he hated himself now—for wishing with all of his might that they were true.

Still, he went on, "You will not be able to hide with your brother, Lafayette, Sam, or Tara because Russell knows of all of them from the file Franklin Mott found in Bill Compton's home."

Eric saw Tara Thornton cringe at the mention of Mott's name. She was brave, but she'd likely been brutalized, given Mott's reputation. Eric sighed and spoke to Sookie's friend, "You did a good job injuring him, but you did not send him to his true death. And he is not one to be denied."

Tara shrank back into Lafayette's arms in fear.

Eric continued speaking to Tara. "Mott is not a very old vampire, however. It will take him at least a week to heal—if Talbot is to be believed about the extent of Mott's injuries." Eric paused for a moment. "Actually—to be safe—you should count on only four days until Mott comes for you. And Russell is already looking for you since you escaped with Sookie. I suggest wooden bullets for Mott; he has not yet reached an age when he can easily move out of their path. Alcide will know how to find a suitable weapon should you wish to try to stand your ground against him. Otherwise, you should run."

Without another word to a stunned Tara, Eric looked back at Sookie. His blood in her was longing for a connection, and he contemplated touching her fingers as he'd done earlier before she'd woken up or smoothing the hair away from her forehead. He longed for her _soft_ eyes to look at him again—instead of her suspicious ones.

But that was not to be.

He shook himself from his fantasies again; he needed to focus for both of their sakes. "Sookie, you could try to hide with Herveaux, but a Were named Debbie Pelt, who according to Talbot's ramblings has a connection to him, is now hunting for you as well. She will likely go to Herveaux's usual places to seek you out. Or she will tell Russell of them."

Her eyes softening a little, Sookie looked quickly to Alcide. The Were nodded sheepishly.

"Yeah—that sounds like what she'd do alright," Alcide confirmed.

Eric tried to ignore the fact that Sookie's eyes once more hardened a little as they found his own again. Perhaps, he deserved her ire. After all, from her perspective, he'd tortured her friend, tricked her into taking his blood, and taken Russell's side against her and Bill. And that didn't even count the "crimes" that Bill would have reported against him.

"Russell will not give up," Eric said, trying to make Sookie understand. "He is now married to the queen of Louisiana, Sophie-Anne, and she wants you too. Before Bill came to Bon Temps, he worked in Sophie-Anne's court."

Sookie tilted her head in question.

Eric continued, "He was her procurer."

"Procurer?" Sookie asked as Alcide shifted uncomfortably, likely guessing what was coming.

"Yes," Eric responded, as gently as he was capable in front of the others. "Most wealthy vampires have one. Bill is well-known for his superior glamouring ability, as well as for his aptitude for finding delicacies. And those things make him very good at his job."

"Delicacies," Sookie murmured. "What was his job—specifically?"

"He found humans for the queen—those of noteworthy or exotic blood."

"That file on me?" Sookie asked in horror.

"That file was the work of a meticulous procurer who was _very_ interested in _why_ you have such wonderful blood, Sookie. And make no mistake—I have not tasted you, but from your scent, I know that your blood would be exquisite."

"Stay the fuck away from her, Northman!" Alcide growled.

Eric rolled his eyes. "I _am_ the fuck away from her, Herveaux. I could have had Sookie's blood many times, but I do _not_ take blood by force." He growled. "And don't forget who hired you to protect her! I know that I will not forget that I found her almost dead tonight!" Eric's glare at the Were caused Alcide to take a step back.

"Was Bill gonna offer me to the queen then?" Sookie asked in a shaky voice, even as tears trailed down her cheeks.

Eric kept himself from brushing those drops of salt water away by shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I do not know everything," the vampire said quietly, "but I have found out some things and guessed some others. I know that your cousin Hadley is the queen's chief courtesan and favorite blood donor. I know that her blood tastes delicious and that she smells lovely, but her scent is nothing to yours. I know that several months ago Hadley boasted to the queen that she had a "special" cousin, a girl who seemed to be able to read people's thoughts right out of their heads. I know that Bill was still working for the queen at the time that Hadley let the story of her unique cousin slip. I know that you cannot be glamoured and that Bill's usual way of gaining control over new 'requisitions' is by glamouring them. I know that Bill originally procured Hadley. And I know that Bill has a lot of his blood in you even now. I know that my blood drew me here, and if Bill is still alive, he will likely come here too. Or he will go to his home, get himself captured by Russell, and save himself by using your blood connection to lead Russell straight to you."

Sookie looked genuinely afraid now—as well as pissed off, though Eric couldn't tell who the target of her anger was.

"How do you know all this? And how long have you known?"

"I learned of Hadley's connection to you yesterday—from Hadley herself," he answered smoothly. "I knew of Compton's former position in Sophie-Anne's court before; however, I did not know that Bill _already_ knew of Hadley's telepathic cousin when he so conveniently found you. I learned of the file on you because of Franklin Mott's boasting_—after_ you saw it."

"You think the queen sent Bill to procure me?" Sookie asked, the hurt clear in her voice.

"That is what Hadley told me."

"You think that since Bill couldn't glamour me, he decided that seduction would be the best way?"

"Yes," Eric answered softly. He did not like the brokenness in her voice or the slump of her shoulders, but he told her what he thought was the truth anyway. "And to help him with that, he would have wanted to get his blood into you as soon as possible."

"Like you did?"

"Yes," Eric responded honestly. "I have wanted you since the night I met you."

"See—they're all bastards!" Tara yelled out.

Sookie raised her hand to silence her friend. "You think Bill will just hand me over to Russell and Sophie-Anne when he finds me?"

Eric considered for a moment. "Yes and no. I think he truly believes that he loves you, so—at first—he will try to protect you from them. But he will fail. He is not experienced enough to shield you from a vampire like Russell, nor is he particularly strong." Eric couldn't prevent some of his derision for the younger vampire from creeping into his response. "Make no mistake: When Russell finds Compton, he will break—_quickly_—under torture. Then he will be forced to use your blood connection to lead Russell to you." Eric paused. "Bill will likely talk himself into believing that it would be the best thing for you—the only way he could ensure your life."

"Would it be?" Sookie asked, her brown eyes searching him—threatening to tear his control to shreds. "Would it be the best way?"

Eric couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. He shook his head. "No. Sophie-Anne would likely insist upon taking you for her lover, probably forcing you to service her alongside your cousin. She likes the taboo, and that thought would arouse her."

Sookie cringed, but Eric went on, "At least at first, Sophie-Anne would feed from you excessively if left to her own devices." He closed his eyes for a moment. "When I first saw Hadley, she was horribly anemic, yet Sophie-Anne still fed." He opened his eyes to see that Sookie's were full of tears. "Russell would likely force the queen to curb her appetites for your blood, but he is no better guardian. He is insane and powerful. He would use your telepathy all the time—until, I fear, you would be worn down. Talbot would be allowed to create dishes with your blood as if you were a fine wine. You _might_ be able to share a room with Compton _if_ you behaved. Bill would likely act as your keeper and give you more and more of his blood to keep you alive."

His voice softened a little. "It might not be all bad, however. Perhaps, you would be allowed to read some books during the day when you had the energy to do so—at least when you were not reading humans' minds. And—you might even be allowed whole days to yourself as you recovered from blood loss. However, your family and friends would likely be gone from your life."

Sookie let out a harsh sob. "You paint a bleak picture, Mr. Northman."

"I tried not to make it as bleak as it could be, Miss Stackhouse." He smiled at her a little as they both recognized the absurdity of their using each other's last names at this point.

And for a moment—just a moment—she smiled back.

"You think I would be killed by them," she stated after that moment ended.

"Yes," Eric confirmed, deadly serious again, "eventually. But you would wish for death long before it came to you."

"Would they turn me?" Sookie asked in a voice so quiet that Eric could barely hear her question.

He nodded. "It is likely."

Sookie took a deep, ragged breath. "What about you, Eric? Why are _you_ here? What do you want from me?"

"My blood in you pulled me here." He answered her second question honestly and ignored the others. To be frank, he did not have answers for them.

"If Russell finds out you helped me—warned me—you will be in trouble, won't you?"

"That is the least of my worries, Sookie, and it should be the least of yours too," the vampire replied.

She took another shaky breath. "What _should_ I be worried about?"

He looked around the room again and then back at her. "Sookie, you have a choice to make. I have warned you. I have told you of the threat and of what I learned of Bill."

"What choice?"

Eric sighed. He couldn't help himself as he looked into her still suspicious eyes. "I will leave now Sookie, or I will speak with you alone. There _are_ some things that are as much about me and my safety as yours, and these are not things for the ears of your," he paused, "family. The words I wish to say to you now are not words that can be listened to by people who can be glamoured. They are not words to be listened to by people for whom I have no trust. They are words for you only—if you choose to hear them. If you do not, then I will say goodbye, Miss Stackhouse, for I will likely never see you again."

Sookie looked up at Eric in surprise.

Tara spoke up, "Fuck no! After all the shit you just said, how do we know that you ain't just here healin' Sookie for Russell? How do we know you won't just take Sookie to him if we leave her alone with you? You were pretty damned cozy with him when I was brought to his house of fuckin' horrors the other night!"

"You _don't_ know," Eric said evenly. "It is up to Sookie to decide whether or not to trust me. If she chooses not to, then I will go now." He pulled his hands out of his pockets and picked up a pad and pen from the bedside table. He wrote down an address and a security code.

He looked at Sookie. "This is my safest residence in the Shreveport area. There is a hidden compartment under the cabinet next to the refrigerator. In it is a little more than thirty thousand dollars. Your family and friends will all be watched by Russell. If you do not wish to hear me out now, then I hope that you will trust me enough to go here tomorrow _during the day_, take the money, and run." Eric looked at Alcide and then back at Sookie. "You should take the Were or your shifter boss. They cannot protect you against a vampire—especially not one who is three thousand years old—but they _could_ help to protect you during the day, and they both have connections that might help you. I have removed your name and all evidence of you from the records of this hospital. Just promise me one thing."

"What?" Sookie asked with a whimper.

"Don't go running to Compton. And don't go home."

"I don't know if I can promise you that I won't go home," she said quietly.

"Then they already have you," he said in a tortured tone.

Eric reached forward with his hand—the one that still held the piece of paper—but he stopped just short of touching her fingers. The air seemed to vibrate in the space between their flesh.

"Hate me if you must, Sookie. Distrust me if you must, but please—_please_—run. Run from Bill and from Russell and from Sophie-Anne. Hell—run from me if it makes you feel better. But go. Take more of my blood and get stronger so that you can leave this place now, or . . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Or?" she asked.

"Or talk to me alone for a few minutes, Sookie." Eric pulled back his hand before letting the slip of paper drop onto the hospital bed next to her hand. "Decide," he finished simply.

Sookie had studied people for a long time. Her telepathy had always allowed her the luxury of comparing people's thoughts to their facial expressions, and though she couldn't read Eric's thoughts, she'd been able to read his face a few times that night. Mostly, it had been stony, almost expressionless, but a few times, she'd seen more—things he'd clearly not wanted her to see. He'd been hurt when she shrank from him as he'd offered her the water. He'd been sorry when he told her about Bill's duplicity. And—most importantly—the eyes that she'd opened hers to that night had _cared_ for her.

"Okay," she said, looking at the others in the room. "I wanna talk to Eric alone for a little while."

"Hell no!" Tara exclaimed. "Sookie! He's a fucking vampire!"

"And he saved my life, Tara. I owe him a few minutes," Sookie said with strength in her voice.

Alcide glared at Eric, "We'll wait right outside, cher."

Eric hated that fucking endearment. He hated even more that Sookie would be angry if he tried to use it, but she just nodded to Alcide.

Eric, however, shook his head. "No, Were, you will move out of range of hearing, or I will go now." He looked down at Sookie. "I won't have others hear what I say, whether they hear it through the door or in the room."

Sookie nodded again. "Okay. Alcide, why don't you go get some coffee or something?" She looked at her brother. "Take Jason with you—will you? He looks like he could use some. And I'm feeling up to a little myself."

Alcide reluctantly led Jason from the room, snarling at Eric as he left.

Lafayette spoke up, "Come on, hooker," he said to Tara.

She brushed off Lafayette's hand from her shoulder, and glared at Sookie. "If you voluntarily put yourself into a situation where you're alone with a vamp again, Sookie, I'm _done_! The last time I left you alone with one, he nearly drained you!" Tara had tears in her eyes. "I _can't_ do this anymore, Sook. Please! The choice that you should be makin' is the one that'll keep you safe from _them_. Please!"

Sookie gave Tara a tender yet strong look. "Tara, I _need_ to do this, okay? It'll be alright."

Tara shook her head angrily and stormed out of the room. "Fine! I'm done with this shit!"

Lafayette meekly followed after her.

Eric looked down at Sookie. Again, the desire to touch her was great, but again he kept himself from doing it. He waited until he was certain the Were could no longer hear them before he spoke. "Sookie," he began, "tonight, Russell Edgington began to suspect that I want him finally dead."

"But I thought that you were workin' for him now," Sookie said somewhat bitterly. "I thought he was your king."

Eric shook his head, "There are—as you should realize by now—often major differences between what _appears_ to be so and what _is_ so. Those tattooed Weres work for Russell; their ancestors also worked for him. And in Russell's home, I found my father's crown—my _human_ father's crown."

"What are you sayin'?" Sookie asked, her eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm saying that Russell was there the night my human family was murdered—my father, my mother, and my sister—but I couldn't see him. He was wearing a cloak, and one of the members of his Were pack took him the crown."

Eric continued with foreboding in his tone. "The night he was responsible for killing my family, Russell _did_ see me. He told me not to come after him. And—I did not. I admit to you, Sookie—just to you," he said with shining eyes, "that I was a coward that night." The Viking paused. "I did _not_ follow him into the dark."

"Oh Eric," she said.

"Do not pity me!" he barked.

"Okay," she responded apologetically.

Quickly, he regained his calm and went on, "When Russell saw me, I was younger than I appear now, but it will not take him long to remember—especially now that Talbot has pointed out my interest in one of Russell's artifacts."

"Artifacts?" Sookie questioned quietly.

"The crown," Eric seethed. "It was," he paused, "on display in a glass case—as if it were _only_ some kind of museum piece!"

Sookie inhaled deeply, but she didn't offer Eric any sympathy this time. Soon his expression became stoic again.

"Russell sees you in the same way he sees that crown," Eric said quietly. "And he will have no compunction about hurting whomever it takes to secure his newest museum piece."

They were quiet for a moment as Sookie absorbed what he was saying.

"He'll be hunting you too?" Sookie asked.

Eric nodded. "Yes, he will. Before—I might have been able to have gained his trust enough for him let his guard down. Then, I would have killed him, but now that he is suspicious of me, that will not happen. Clearly, something is nagging at him, and soon he will realize that it is the memory of a young Viking who was too afraid of him and his wolves to avenge his family members' deaths." He closed his eyes. "It will not take Russell long to connect the dots, Sookie. So I have sent Pam away. And I will go away, too. But . . . ." He stopped.

"But?"

"If I leave you here, Russell will find you. You might elude him for a while if you run with Herveaux or Merlotte, but Russell will not stop until he tracks you down. You are too great a prize for him to let go."

"What do I do then? If anyone helps me, I'm assuming they'll be in danger too."

"Yes—Russell will likely kill any that try to aid you. Bill's files and, therefore, Mott's information is somewhat outdated in that it still says that you are estranged from your brother, so Jason will likely stay safe unless you contact him. Your friends too. Russell will continue to watch everyone that you care about, but as long as he thinks they might be useful, they will stay safe—except for Tara, who will be in danger because of Mott. I am sorry, Sookie, but the home you love is lost to you—or, at least, it _needs_ to be." He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he didn't often indulge in. "However—if you are caught—what I said about your family and friends being safe will be nullified. Once Russell has you, then their only function would be to help him control you. They will be in more danger if he has you than if he does not."

Sookie sighed deeply. She had heard what sounded like true regret in Eric's voice. She knew that he was losing his home as well. He was also losing Fangtasia, but—again—she intuited that he didn't want her pity.

"What do I do then?" she asked again.

Eric smirked at little. "You could choose to come with me, Sookie Stackhouse."

* * *

**A/N: Well—I'm back! This is my week to work on **_**Uninvited**_**. I'm hoping to get you one or two more chapters this week, but I have A LOT of grading to do, so we'll have to see. Meanwhile, I hope you liked this chapter! As you can see, this Eric is going to be more forthcoming. Now—the question will be what Sookie will decide. Meanwhile, try not to hate Tara too much (I know it's hard). But she just saw her best friend almost die. And she was horribly abused by Franklin Mott. So she's got some well-deserved angst this time. **

**Thanks so much for all the reviews that you gave to the first five chapters of this story! I hope that you will keep telling me what you think!**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**Remember: my wordpress site has pictures (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	7. Chapter 7: Choice 1

**Chapter 07: Choice #1**

"**In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves. The process never ends until we die. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility."—Eleanor Roosevelt**

_Sookie sighed deeply. She had heard what sounded like true regret in Eric's voice. She knew that he was losing his home as well. He was also losing Fangtasia, but—again—she intuited that he didn't want her pity. _

"_What do I do then?" she asked again._

_ Eric smirked at little. "You could choose to come with me, Sookie Stackhouse."_

Sookie looked up at the vampire in surprise. "Go with you? Eric—I can't go with you!"

Eric lowered his eyes to the floor. This is what he'd expected her to say. He had never anticipated that Sookie would actually leave her friends and family. He had never expected her to give up her home. For the thousandth time, he wondered why he had even come. It would have been better for her if she had just slipped away to her death in her sleep.

He closed his eyes. She would be taken. She would be used. She would resist. She would eventually be killed—despite her usefulness. Or she would be broken—despite her spirit.

Or—worst of all—she would be turned and then broken by her maker's command.

The thought of those things made Eric want to take Sookie with him against her will, but her will was what he liked most about her, so he wouldn't. He took a step back and looked at her.

"Then run, Sookie. Promise me that you will run away. Run as far as you can and keep running." He didn't like the desperation that was in his voice, but his control had finally left him after the long night of worry. The balls that he'd so carefully kept in the air now seemed to be tumbling down all at once.

"Eric," Sookie said, her eyes finally softening, "why are you here? Why did you come?"

He took a step toward the hospital bed. However, before he could answer her question, his nose picked up a familiar scent, and he tensed.

"Bill is coming," he said simply.

* * *

Eric took up a defensive stance in front of Sookie as the Civil War veteran sped into the room.

"Sookie," Bill said, his Southern accent thick. He looked at Eric and demanded, "What the fuck are you doing here, Northman?"

Eric smirked, his earlier indecisiveness gone now that he had a foe to face. "You almost killed her, Bill. I healed her. Take a whiff," he mocked.

Bill inhaled sharply. "You let _him_ give you his blood, darling?" he asked, jetting to the other side of Sookie's hospital bed.

Eric was poised, ready to fight Bill if necessary. The Viking knew that he could easily kill Compton before he could lay an unwanted finger onto Sookie, but he was waiting for a cue from her—waiting to know how to act.

If Sookie had shrunk back a bit from Eric's sudden movements before, she recoiled violently from Bill's. Eric growled protectively.

"Back off, Compton," the Viking said in a low, threatening voice. "Back off. Right. Fucking. Now."

Bill—to his credit—did take a step away. "Sookie," he said in an insistent, pleading tone, "I'm sorry about before. I was near-death. I couldn't control my feeding!"

Sookie's body shook as she shrank back farther into her hospital bed. Even her voice trembled as she spoke. "I don't blame you for that, Bill. I was dumb for tryin' to give you my blood," she paused, "when you were so sick."

"I knew you would forgive me, darling!" Bill said, taking a step forward again. At Sookie's words and quick forgiveness of Bill for almost draining her, Eric took a half step back from her. He thought for a moment about using his blood to try to influence her—to make her doubt Bill—but he didn't. He _wouldn't_. The room suddenly felt tiny to the large Viking.

"Bill," Sookie said in a pained voice, "we can't keep goin' on like this." She let out a little sob. "You hurt me, and I'm not just talkin' about in that van. I'm talkin' about when you slept with Lorena."

She looked over toward Eric as if searching for strength. The Viking noticed Sookie's fingers, stretching toward him. He recognized that the movement was unconscious on her part. He knew that she just wanted someone to support her—not him in particular.

_Not_ him.

But he couldn't control himself.

He hated how he couldn't control himself!

He reached out and took her hand in his. She looked at him with surprise and then gratefulness before looking back at Bill.

Sookie took a deep breath and squeezed Eric's hand. He squeezed back.

"Bill, were you sent by the queen to find me—to procure me for her?" Sookie asked, looking at Bill with scrutiny.

"What has _he_ told you?" Bill asked vindictively, even as he looked at Eric. "Darling, you know that Eric is a master manipulator. You cannot believe his lies!"

Again, Sookie squeezed Eric's hand. "I saw the file, Bill. _Your_ file. Russell had it."

"What file?" Bill hedged.

"The one written about me," she said. "The one found in your house."

"If there was something there, then Eric planted it there!" Bill insisted accusingly.

"It was written in your handwriting, Bill," Sookie said quietly. "Don't lie to me."

Bill looked as if he were being tortured. "Darling, you _must_ believe me," he begged. "There are things that I have been trying to protect you from,"

Eric felt Sookie's blood pulling on him, pulling so hard that it seemed to be taking some of his own strength from his body—even though that _shouldn't_ have been possible given the fact that they'd never even had a single proper blood exchange. Only a bonded pair should have been able to do such things. Still, Eric allowed his strength to flow where it was being asked to go.

"Were you sent by the queen to procure me?" Sookie asked her question again, this time with no emotion in her voice.

"Sookie," Bill stammered. "Please. I love you."

"That's not an answer, Bill, and I need one," Sookie said. "Right. Now."

Again Bill tried to blame Eric. "He told you this, didn't he?" he asked as he glared at Eric.

"Yes," Sookie said. "Did Eric tell me a lie? Was he wrong about your plan to give me to the queen?"

Bill looked at her with a tormented expression. "No—but I wasn't going to do it! Not anymore. Not since I fell in love with you. I wanted to elope with you, to take you away from Louisiana until I could figure out how to keep Sophie-Anne from getting you."

Sookie looked at Bill and asked quietly. "_When_ did you fall in love with me, Bill?"

"I don't know," the Civil War veteran answered as his eyes lowered toward the floor. "Sookie, I'm sorry," he said guiltily as he looked at her again. "But I know that I can make this all up to you if you let me. Russell will come after you, and you need for me to protect you. I would die for you, Sookie!"

Sookie shook her head slowly. "No, Bill." Tears dripped from her eyes. "I need you to go. Now."

Bill looked at Eric. "This is all your fault! If Sophie-Anne hadn't been so concerned that you would steal Sookie out from under her, then_ I_ would not have been sent."

Eric nodded. "You're right about one thing. I _would_ have wanted her for myself," Eric said, even though he feared Sookie would pull her hand from his. She didn't. "Sookie was in my area," the Viking continued. "She _should_ have been my asset. Sophie-Anne _should_ have let me negotiate with Sookie. Sophie-Anne could have hired her through me for a fair price. There could have been a contract put in place that would have helped Sookie maintain a normal life! That's how it's _supposed_ to work now, Bill."

Bill scoffed. "Sophie-Anne is your queen. Surely you understand the hierarchy. Plus—I _know_ how you treat your 'assets,' Eric," he added accusingly.

Sookie looked up at Bill. "Wait—I _am_ already Eric's asset." She bit her lip. "He's paid me for doing work for him. And he _hasn't_ tried to take me away from my home. He _hasn't_ tried to steal me from you—except for when he tricked me into drinkin' his blood in Dallas. But that wasn't really planned out. And he hasn't planned—_not ever_—to pass me along to his queen."

Bill gave Sookie a sorrowful look. "Please, you don't know what you're talking about, Sookie. Just come with me. I will finish healing you, and then we can sort this out. I'm sure that if I talk to Russell and explain things, he would be happy to offer you protection from the likes of Eric!" He sneered out Eric's name as if it were laced with poison.

As Bill reached out to grab her free hand, Sookie cringed again, and Eric growled—a low, feral growl from deep within his chest.

"Sookie is _mine_!" Bill yelled out.

Eric looked at Sookie, who was shaking her head in denial. "Just go, Bill—okay? We'll talk later; I'll be home tomorrow—alright?"

"But Russell may look for you at your house," Bill said.

Sookie nodded. "That's fine. You can come see me at first dark tomorrow night—okay? And then you can run interference for me with Russell—you know, explain things to him. I'm not gonna be discharged from here until tomorrow anyway, and I just need some time to think about things."

Eric hated the words that Sookie was speaking, but she squeezed his hand, almost as if in reassurance. If Eric's heart could have beaten, it would have thumped triumphantly as he realized that Sookie was lying to Bill.

Bill looked reluctant to go.

"Just keep safe, Bill," Sookie said, though Eric could feel a kind of "hitch" to the sentiment in Sookie's blood. He prayed that Bill couldn't feel it too. She went on. "Russell is looking for you too, and until he realizes that we had to kill Lorena in order to save ourselves, he's sure to be angry. Maybe you could call him for us—let him know that it was self-defense and that I'm willin' to talk to him."

Bill looked at her as if he wished to glamour her. At that moment, Eric felt Bill's blood inside of Sookie come more to life. It sought to rev up the hormones that controlled Sookie's fear and anxiety.

Despite his inclination to stop Bill's blood, Eric did not. Instead, he just held firmly onto Sookie's hand and used his own blood to "shine a light"—so to speak—on Bill's duplicity. He wondered if Sookie would be able to sense it.

"When I contact Russell, may I tell him that you will willingly work for him?" Bill asked. "It really _is_ the best way," he added.

"Sure Bill," Sookie said in a resigned voice, even as she shook a bit with fear. She dropped Eric's hand and pulled her knees up before wrapping both of her arms around them as if to hug herself. "If it's what _you_ think is best. I just need some time to myself before I can let go of everything that's happened since you proposed to me—so that I can," she paused, "move on from it."

Bill nodded and smiled at Sookie's response. He glared at Eric. "I don't want to leave you alone with Russell's new boy toy here."

Eric didn't react to that. He knew several things in that moment. The first was that Bill was a self-absorbed, self-serving ass, and whether he loved Sookie or not was immaterial. The second thing he knew is that Sookie was _very_ clever.

She was telling Bill exactly what he needed to hear in order to get him to leave the hospital.

Bill looked to be doing just that before he suddenly turned around.

"No!" the younger vampire said as he looked right at Eric. "I know you don't want me here right now, darling, but I cannot leave you with the likes of Eric." Bill's fangs dropped down, and Eric answered by dropping his own fangs and moving directly into Bill's path to Sookie.

Sookie muttered some words almost to herself, but Eric was able to hear them crystal clear. "Gran always said that the devil you knew was a devil was not nearly as frightening as the one you didn't know was one."

Eric smirked, even as he kept his eyes on Bill, "I've always heard, 'Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.'"

Eric couldn't see it, but he heard the smile in Sookie's voice. "Gran changed the saying a bit. Her way made more sense to me because of my telepathy."

Bill looked a bit confused at their exchange, but for the first time, Eric felt hopeful that Sookie might leave the hospital with him.

Both vampires heard Sookie's grunt of pain as she pulled the second IV from her arm. And both vampires reacted to the smell of her blood. Only one sent his blood like a jetliner to heal the wound. The other moved to try to drink the precious liquid.

Bill rushed toward Sookie's body. "Let me heal you with my saliva, my love," he said with a twinge of desperation in his tone.

However, before he could get to Sookie, he met a Viking-sized wall, and that wall pushed him—hard—against another wall: the concrete hospital wall.

"Move again, Bill," Eric said threateningly. "Come for her blood again, and you will learn the difference between 150 years as vampire and one thousand."

"I accept your offer, Eric," came Sookie's voice from behind him.

Not letting his surprise show, Eric zipped to Sookie's side and picked her up, even as her arms went automatically around his neck. Bill came at them again, and, this time, his stomach was met by a large boot, which kicked him forcefully into the wall again. Bill was not so quick to get up after his second introduction to the cold surface.

As quick as a flash, Eric reached down and thrust the blanket from the bed into Sookie's arms, and before Bill could react again, he was out of the room with Sookie. He hurried to the roof.

"What are we doin' up here?" Sookie asked.

"I'm going to fly us away. It is the safest way, and I know Bill can't fly."

"Fly?" Sookie asked, her voice now quivering with anxiety.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Wrap yourself in the blanket."

"I'm scared of heights," Sookie mumbled, even as she obeyed.

Eric quickly moved them toward the far side of the roof. He could smell that Bill was pursuing them.

"I wish I could say goodbye to them, but it's probably safer that I don't," Sookie said as she gripped Eric's neck tighter.

"You're right about that, Sookie," Eric said softly—kindly.

Just then, Bill thrust the door to the roof open. "Sookie don't! I may have lied to you, but I'm not a monster like Eric is!" The Civil War veteran sped toward them, but stopped when he was about ten feet away. He raised his hands as if in peace. "Please, Sookie. I love you."

Sookie looked from Bill to Eric. Tears streamed down her face. "Can you go slowly? I _really_ am scared of 'F-ing' heights."

Eric smirked briefly at her. "Then don't look down. Just look at me, Sookie." With no other words, he took off into the night sky.

Both of them heard Bill yelling from the rooftop.

Eric sighed as the petite human in his arms buried her face into his chest out of both fear and sadness.

Sookie Stackhouse was finally completely under his power, but all Eric could think about was how good it felt to hold her.

In that moment, a large part of him hated both himself and Sookie. He knew that his life would be easier if he dropped her to the ground. But he didn't. Instead, he gripped her tighter so that she wouldn't as frightened.

Eric knew that he would still have to deal with Sophie-Anne and Russell—his remaining two balls in the air. However, at least for the moment, Sookie Stackhouse was "caught" and quite secure in his arms. Still weakened from blood loss and from the confrontation with Bill, she kept her face pressed against his chest, inhaled deeply, and slept—even as he sped them through the air, high above the ground.

* * *

**A/N: So—I have a new chapter for you. I didn't think I'd have it so soon, but it's a relatively short one, and I took my Friday off from grading (before I go grading crazy tomorrow). I still have a goal to get you one more chapter before Wednesday (when I'll turn back to **_**Touch the Flame**_**), but I'll be working on it a little at a time (during grading breaks) so don't expect it for several days. **

**THANKS so much for all the reviews for the last chapter! Y'all are so great for understanding my need to rotate my stories a bit to keep them fresh! And I really didn't want to leave you hangin,' so I powered through my editing of this one. **

**Best & Happy Superbowl Sunday! Oh—and happy Chinese New Year! It's the year of the horse—so we are in for a mix of adventure and chaos, according to one of my students! Should be fun!**

**Kat**

**Remember that their are pics on my wordpress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	8. Chapter 8: Choice 2

**Chapter 08: Choice #2 **

When Sookie woke up, she was in a bed. Her thin hospital gown was still her main garment, though the blanket from the hospital had been wrapped around her body as well.

"How long did I sleep?" she asked groggily.

"A little over an hour—the whole flight here and a little longer."

"Where are we?" she asked, still trying to get her bearings. "Is it safe?"

"We are in Vicksburg, Mississippi. It is safe—for now."

"Mississippi?" Sookie asked with surprise. "Why are we in Russell's state?"

"This is the first stop on my escape route," Eric said from across the room. "Trust me—I never expected to be running from the king of Mississippi when I came up with the route," he intoned. "But," he paused, "Russell won't suspect that I'd put myself this close to the lion's den. That would just be," Eric paused and continued a little playfully, "completely idiotic."

She turned her head toward Eric's voice, even as she tried to shake the cobwebs out of her head. "Escape route?"

"Yes," Eric said simply.

"Escape to where?" she asked, as she sat up a little. She immediately felt light-headed and lay back down.

"Do you really believe that I would tell you that, Sookie?"

She smiled. "No." She took a deep breath. "So? What now?"

"You have more choices to make, Miss Stackhouse," Eric said as he walked toward her. His expression was half-predatory and half-subdued. The paradox was disconcerting for Sookie—especially given her weakness.

"Choices?" she stammered a little. "I thought I already made my choice. I left the hospital with you, after all."

"Yes," Eric agreed. "But there are two more choices you need to make before morning, and what you choose will determine what we do from here."

"What do you mean?" Sookie asked.

"I'll tell you that part in a while, but first, you must make your second choice of the night," Eric explained.

"What about?"

"You must decide whether or not to take more of my blood."

She sighed. "Does everything come back to blood?"

"Yes," Eric answered quickly. "I am vampire. _Everything_ comes back to blood for me."

Sookie swallowed hard. "What would it do to me? I mean—I know I might just be splitting hairs here since you already saved my life with your blood tonight, but . . . ." She stopped for a moment. "But I just need to know. I don't wanna become a vampire, Eric."

The Viking sighed. "That's too bad. It would be the best way to keep you safe. I thought about turning you as you slept. It would solve some problems—though it would create others."

She gasped at his honesty and then recoiled in fear.

He chuckled. "Do not fear me, Miss Stackhouse. I had the thought for only 2.3 seconds before I discarded it. It would not fit in with my plans."

"Your plans?" she stammered.

"Correct," Eric said. "Plus, I recognize that you do not wish to become vampire—at least not right now. And—though you might have been told otherwise—I am not a monster."

A hint of a smirk ghosted her lips as her eyebrow arched. "Really?"

He chuckled again, enjoying the slight challenge in her tone. "I am not _that_ kind of monster," he corrected.

"So—the blood?" she pushed.

"It would—obviously—heal you. It would tie us together more strongly." He sighed. "With my blood in you, I already have the ability to control your emotions to a certain extent."

"How?" she asked.

"Tell me—have you dreamt of me?" he leered.

She bit her lip and nodded. "Yes."

"Your endorphins and hormones can be controlled by my blood, Sookie," he reported. "A vampire can send dreams or can attempt to control the chemistry of your body while you are awake; however, that would be more obvious to you. It is almost like a glamouring inside of the blood, and I believe you would be able to feel it—_if_ you knew what to look for."

"Feel it?" she asked.

"Perhaps," he said. "I am not sure. I have not tried to control you, though I have sent you dreams—two of them."

"But why would you send me the dreams you sent me?" she asked without thinking.

Eric gave her a curious look, but then brushed off her question. "We do not have time for a discussion of your dreams right now. Suffice it to say that my blood is the catalyst for your having them, but I do not have the ability to control their content—though the impulse I have as I 'send' the dream will help to determine the dream's 'mood.'"

For a moment or two, Sookie thought back to the various dreams she'd had about Bill since taking his blood. Then she shivered a little as she thought about some of the times when she felt as if he were trying to influence her from the inside out. During those times, she'd not understood what he was trying to do. She'd thought that she'd been feeling love and concern for him.

"Bill," she said softly.

"What about Compton?" Eric said, his tone suddenly harsher.

"At the hospital earlier. When he was tryin' to get me to let him handle things. Did he?" Her voice caught.

"Did he use his blood to stimulate the hormones in your cerebral cortex to produce the rise in fear you felt? _Yes_. I felt his blood doing it. Did he do that with the aim of manipulating you? I believe so." He paused. "Has he done similar things to you since you first took his blood?" He kept answering his own questions. "He likely has." He sighed. "I could have blocked him from doing it tonight, but instead, I asked my own blood to piggy-back onto his—in order to make his actions more noticeable to you.

"Have you?" she asked defensively, her eyes angry and challenging. "Have you done similar things since I first took _your_ blood?"

"Don't you remember? I am not a monster," Eric answered with a smirk.

"At least not _that_ kind?" she asked with a half-smile.

"No. Not _that_ kind," he responded. "Though—because of your frustratingly stubborn ways—the thought of controlling you _is_ tempting." His smirk grew. "I _could_ have kept you from trailing after Mr. Compton to Jackson, perhaps. I could have stimulated your fear. Then again, I am certain that you would have fought off my influence; you really are stubborn, little one."

"Russell would have found me anyway," she said resignedly.

"Yes. That he _would_ have done."

"So—taking your blood again?"

Eric sighed. "Having more of my blood in you means that I will be able to feel you in a more pronounced way, but my main goal is to heal you. It is not the time for you to be weak, Sookie. I will not run with you if you are weak. And you cannot run on your own if you are weak."

"So _not_ taking more of your blood would be impractical," she stated dryly.

"I think so. But then again, I am _quite_ fond of my blood. You, on the other hand, do _not_ seem to like it that much, so it will not surprise me if you refuse." His smirk was back.

She rolled her eyes and tried to sit up a little. She was troubled when even that simple action seemed to drain her energy.

"Okay," she said in a quiet, though sure voice.

"Okay," he said evenly, though his eyes glistened in anticipation.

"How do we do this?" she asked.

His answer was to quickly lift up her body more gently than she might have imagined he was capable of before settling in behind her.

"Oh!" she gasped at his sudden movements.

He inhaled deeply behind her.

"You don't need to breathe," she whispered. "Why are you breathing?"

"I'm not. I am inhaling your scent—but not because I need to," the vampire answered honestly.

"Then why?"

"Because I like doing it."

"Oh," she responded.

He exhaled, the cool air from his lungs causing goose bumps to flare up on the delicate skin at the nape of her neck.

"I will become aroused as I feed you, Sookie," Eric said, though his voice betrayed no passion. "However, I believe that the hospital blanket will prevent you from feeling my arousal."

"Then why tell me?" she asked with a gulp.

"I am a large man," Eric chuckled. "So the hospital blanket might not be enough."

"Oh," she gasped. "Well—um—thanks for the warning then."

"Don't mention it," he said just before his fangs clicked down.

Immediately, her fear skyrocketed.

"Why are you afraid?" he asked, even as he stroked her arms a little. He wasn't even aware he'd done it until she cringed at his touch. He immediately pulled his hands away.

"Sorry," she stammered. "It's just that the last time I was around a vampire with his fangs out, I almost died."

"I intend to bite only my _own_ wrist, Sookie," he said softly.

She nodded and then heard the tell-tale sound of fangs biting into flesh. She shivered again and steeled herself as Eric's bloody wrist appeared before her.

"Drink," he said softly.

Hesitating only for a moment, she leaned forward and latched on, circling her hands around his wrist in order to hold the wound steady. She closed her eyes and began sucking.

She heard Eric moan behind her and hoped that she would not become privy to just how large of a man he was. With each pull, however, she became less and less worried about feeling something she shouldn't. In fact, she began to want to feel _more_ of him. She leaned back against his chest as she continued to take his bloods in large draughts."

Just as she was becoming tempted to start moving her own body against his, Eric pulled his wrist from her grasp.

"Enough!" he said with a mixture of anger and passion in his voice. That tone was enough to cause goose bumps to break out on the rest of Sookie's flesh.

In the next moment, Eric was out of the bed and had his back turned to her. "You will be fully healed in less than an hour," he panted, as if he'd just run a marathon. "There is some clothing in the dresser, though it will not fit you well. However, it is all I have and will be better than the hospital garment until you can get some more. I will leave you for ten minutes to allow you time to dress and take care of your human needs." With that, Eric left the room without even a glance over his shoulder.

* * *

The telepath sat in a stunned silence for the first five minutes of her ten and then shook herself out of her mild stupor. Clearly, taking Eric's blood had aroused them both to a certain extent, but she didn't have time to think about that now. Finding her legs stable, she got out of the bed and unwrapped herself from the hospital blanket before moving toward the dresser.

Its offerings _were_ sparse as Eric had said, and clearly the clothing that was available was meant for Eric. Sookie sighed and took out the smallest looking T-shirt, some socks, and some boxer shorts. She shrugged out of the hospital gown and then put the T-shirt on. Not surprisingly, it hung down halfway to her knees. She had slightly better luck with the boxers. Though Eric was very tall, his hips were slim, so that garment stayed on her pretty well as soon as she'd folded over the waistband a couple of times. Thankfully, it had a sewn up fly, which Sookie found a bit odd until she remembered that the boxers belonged to a vampire who had no need to go to the bathroom. Finally, she put on the socks and then glanced into the mirror. All in all, she looked like a small child playing dress-up in her father's closet, but Eric had been right; it _was_ better than the hospital gown. She rushed into the bathroom and quickly splashed a little water onto her face and then went to the bathroom.

As she was coming out of the bathroom, there was a knock on the bedroom door, but Eric didn't wait for an answer before coming in. His eyes quickly took in her appearance, even as hers took in his. Thankfully, any evidence of his earlier arousal had either dissipated or had been taken care of. She blushed a little at that thought.

"What other choice do I have to make?" Sookie asked, needing to break the awkward silence that threatened to envelop Eric and herself as they gazed at each other.

He seemed to shake himself from some silent debate before answering. "You have shown yourself to have _some_ self-preservation instincts, but how far would you really go, Sookie? What lengths would you go to in order to protect yourself?"

"What do you mean?" Sookie asked as she sat down onto the bed. The intense look in Eric's eyes made her feel heavier in that moment.

Eric pulled a chair next to the bed so that he could sit down facing her. He smirked. "How did I find you tonight, Sookie?"

She shrugged. "I don't know—your blood in me?"

He nodded. "Bingo, Blondie."

She rolled her eyes at his moniker for her and was about to remind him of the fact that he was blond too when he spoke again.

"And who else has his blood in you? Hmm?" The sarcasm was thick in Eric's voice.

"Bill," Sookie said quietly.

"Yes," Eric affirmed. "And before we left the hospital—via a _daring_ escape from the rooftop, I might add—who was coming for you?"

"Bill," Sookie responded, again quietly.

"So true!" Eric said acerbically. "And guess whose blood within you is _trying_ to pull toward its master?"

"Bill's." She sighed deeply. "So he's gonna just keep tracking me by using his blood in me?" Sookie asked apprehensively. "But surely he will respect my wishes enough to just leave me alone. I think I made it pretty clear to him that that's what I wanted when I left with you so that I wouldn't have to go with him."

Eric chuckled. "Oh, Sookie. You are beautiful. You are brave. You smell delicious. And I dare say that you are clever—_sometimes_. But you are also naïve. Vampires are the most possessive creatures in existence, and once we get a foothold into a human that we want, we don't easily give it up."

"Like _you_ got a foothold into me? In Dallas?" she challenged.

"_Exactly_!" Eric returned unapologetically. "I have never hidden the fact that I wanted you, Sookie Stackhouse. From the moment I saw you in Fangtasia, so innocent and different from the fangbangers there—from _any_ other creature that I have seen in a thousand years―I wanted you. From the moment you spoke to me—so full of defiance and fire—I wanted you. Your eyes held challenge in them, Sookie—_challenge_, not fear." Eric smiled and closed his eyes at the memory. "Yes—even at the very moment of our meeting—I wanted to take you away from Bill, fly you to my office, bend you over my desk, rip that pretty little dress off of you, fuck you hard, and then mark you as _mine_."

Eric opened his eyes, ignored Sookie's blush and horrified look, and continued. "From the moment I inhaled the scent of your virginal blood, I wanted you. But make no mistake—despite the fact that Bill took the gift of your virginity—you still smell just as sweet to me. Even now, I want to sink my fangs into your neck and drink you in."

"What's stopping you then?" Sookie asked, her voice a mixture of fear and boldness.

"I have no fucking clue," Eric said honestly as he ran his hand through his hair. "I want to taste you more than I have ever wanted to taste anyone else, and you could do _nothing_ to stop me."

"Microwave fingers?" Sookie said with a nervous smile.

Eric's lips also rose in a half-smirk, half-smile. "Based on what I heard from Russell, you have only one good blast in you. And I think I'm faster than you anyway, Miss Stackhouse."

She smirked, "I could use my Southern charm to stop you?"

Eric grinned. "There's not enough charm in the world to make me resist your smell, Sookie. You smell like sunshine in a bottle," he said with a little rattle in his chest—almost a moan. His eyes became darker—passionate. "Like wheat right after it is harvested. Like a meadow teeming with _linnaea borealis_—what my people called the twinflower because of its double bloom. Like the sea when it is first hit by rain. Like _all_ good things. That is what you smell like to me."

Sookie's smirk had long since faded. She didn't know whether to cry because of the poetry of his words or to run because of the inherent threat behind them.

"I—uh—smell that good?" she asked.

Eric nodded somewhat solemnly. "Too good. You smell too good."

"Then I'll just have to trust you not to hurt me or to take my blood without my permission, Eric."

He shook his head. "You _shouldn't_."

Her lips twitched upward, "You told me yourself that I _should_ trust you."

"In the church," Eric responded, reminding them both of that day.

"Yes—right before you offered your life for mine."

"I offered for _Godric_," Eric said gruffly.

"You said it was for _both_ Godric and me," Sookie returned with defiance in her voice.

"You _should_ fear me, Sookie," Eric said, his tone now angry—defensive. "I could kill you in moments."

"You have saved my life one too many times for me to be afraid of you, Eric—whether I should be or not," she returned boldly.

Eric shook his head. "I have _not_ saved your life, Sookie."

She scoffed. "What do you call tonight?"

"_That_ was the protection of an asset," he said stiffly, as he stood up and moved across the room, his back turned to her.

"Am I still even your asset? Are you even Sheriff of Area 5 anymore?" she asked, her hands finding her hips—despite her seated position.

He turned to glare at her. "No. Russell informed me that I was to be Sheriff of Area 1, but now that I have fled, I have no position."

"So I am _not_ your asset anymore," she said cheekily.

"You _are_! Until we separate, you are," he said coldly, though there was an emotion in his eyes that she couldn't interpret. "And you _would_ be an asset to me, Miss Stackhouse. You would be able to help protect me during the day if you stayed with me."

She closed her eyes, taking in both the truth and the harshness embedded in his words. "So you saved me tonight in order to use me?"

"Yes," he said. "That is the reason."

* * *

**A/N: Well—as you can tell, I am still in procrastination mode, but denial about the stack of essays waiting to be graded can last for only so long… Sigh. I blame you all for my not getting to them sooner! You all gave me so many wonderful reviews/comments for the last chapter that I ****had**** to edit another for you! WOW! I think that—between ff . net and WordPress—the last chapter had more reviews than any other chapter I've ever written! At least for a long time! I'm so glad that you all are liking this story! It makes me all the more excited about it!**

**Three chapters was my goal for this week, so I've met that, but I'll continue working on the next one during my grading breaks (except for today, which is Super Bowl Sunday!). Chapter 9 **_**might**_** be done before Wednesday (which is when I'll go back to **_**Touch the Flame**_**), but no promises. **

**Again-thank you so much for all the lovely comments! They make my day. I wish I had time to respond to every single one of them!**

**I want to give you some news about **_**Uninvited**_**. It's going to be 35 chapters—unless I find places where I need to add. It's also the first of a trilogy, which I'm calling the "Un Series." The second part of it, which will be of similar length is already drafted. It's called **_**Uncharted**_**. **_**Uninvited**_** will leave off with a hefty cliffhanger, but I plan to begin posting **_**Uncharted**_** very soon after that, so you won't have to worry about being in suspense for long. (I don't want my house egged, after all). Then the third part is **_**United**_**. It is being drafted even now. (I work on it when I want to produce new things, instead of revise/edit.) I have just figured out my ending for it (which is the hard part), so now all I have to do is write toward that. Anyway, I thought you might be interested to know that the "Un" was gonna be around for a while. **

**Happy Super Bowl Sunday! (Which—**_**yes**_**—is a holiday in my house.) **

**Kat**

**Remember to check out my WordPress site for pictures: (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com). Sephrenia is making a banner for every chapter, and they are gorgeous!**


	9. Chapter 9: Asset

**Chapter 09: Asset**

"_You have saved my life one too many times for me to be afraid of you, Eric—whether I should be or not," she returned boldly. _

_Eric shook his head. "I have not saved your life, Sookie."_

_She scoffed. "What do you call tonight?"_

"_That was the protection of an asset," he said stiffly, as he stood up and moved across the room, his back turned to her. _

"_Am I still even your asset? Are you even Sheriff of Area 5 anymore?" she asked, her hands finding her hips—despite her seated position._

_He turned to glare at her. "No. Russell informed me that I was to be Sheriff of Area 1, but now that I have fled, I have no position."_

"_So I am not your asset anymore," she said cheekily. _

"_You are! Until we separate, you are," he said coldly, though there was an emotion in his eyes that she couldn't interpret. "And you would be an asset to me, Miss Stackhouse. You would be able to help protect me during the day if you stayed with me."_

_She closed her eyes, taking in both the truth and the harshness embedded in his words. "So you saved me tonight in order to use me?"_

"_Yes," he said. "That is the reason."_

"The only reason?" Sookie asked, looking at him skeptically.

"Yes," Eric responded unconvincingly.

Sookie felt something in that moment—almost like a tingling of her blood.

"I think you're lying."

"Think what you want."

"In addition to tonight, you also saved my life when Bill brought me to Fangtasia the night the Maenad attacked me?" Sookie reminded him.

"That was Ludwig's work."

"That was _you_ arranging for Ludwig to help and paying for her to help," Sookie challenged.

"Again, I was protecting an asset," Eric said. "_And_ I was making Bill indebted to me."

"Fine," Sookie said with exasperation. "What about in the church? Was that because I was an asset too?"

"As I said, I was willing to sacrifice myself for _Godric_."

"You _said_ both of us."

"Yes!" he let out in frustration. "But I don't know _why_ I said that!" He stuffed his hands into his pockets, even as a look of confusion swept over his handsome features. "Perhaps, I was trying to garner sympathy from Newlin by seeming to be sacrificing myself for a human life, instead of _just_ a vampire one," he spit out bitterly.

"I don't believe that," Sookie said as she shook her head. "What about the bomb, Eric?"

"You mean the bomb that gave me the chance to get my blood into you, Sookie?" he said, his expression changing immediately to a smirk. "Yes, I will _never_ forget how you sucked that silver from my body. Your lips were divine—rapturous, even." He licked his own lips at the memory.

She shook her head. "And I will never forget the gooey vampire remains of Stan just a few feet to our left, Eric! Or the cries of all the vampires around us who'd been hit with silver." She took a deep breath. "I will never forget the moment that the twenty human minds I felt in that room changed to seven in a split second. Or the severed human body parts I saw. Or the broken bodies of the people, who'd been thrown across the room because of the impact of the blast." She shook her head again as Eric's smirk faded. "I have had a lot of time to think about that night—_a lot_ of time."

The vampire rose and turned his back to Sookie before walking over toward the window.

Sookie kept talking. "It must have been less than a second between the time Luke pushed that button and the blast occurred. And you had been _behind_ me!" She emphasized, "I remember _clearly_ that you had been behind me when I first saw Luke. But then . . . ." She paused as Eric began pacing by the window.

He gave her a warning look. "_Don't_ think about it too much, Sookie."

She stood up. "How come? Because if I do, I will think about how you put your own body between that bomb and me? Because if I do, I will realize that you had to move _closer_ to the bomb to save my life?"

"You are an _asset_, Sookie Stackhouse," he seethed, his fangs clicking down.

She ignored his words and his intimidating posture. "Because if I thought about it, I would realize that you were smart enough to know that you would likely be killed when you chose to protect me? After all, that bomb was laced with silver. And like I said, Stan, who was standing only a few feet closer to Luke than I was, died. Are you afraid that if I _really_ thought about it, then I would realize that you absorbed that whole blast so that I wouldn't go flyin' across the room with the other humans? Eric, you may have been a manipulative bastard _after_ you saved my life, but when that bomb was about to go off, tricking me was _not_ what you were thinkin' about."

"I _wasn't_ thinking," Eric said in a low growl, his hostility clear. "I _never_ think when you are around." He bared his fangs and came toward her, stopping only inches from her body. He towered over her, but she raised her chin defiantly, refusing to cower.

"I should kill you, Sookie Stackhouse," he said, his voice colder and harder than steel. "I should kill you before Bill Compton finds you. I should kill you before he leads Russell Edgington right to you. I should kill you before I . . . ." He stopped.

"Before you what?" Sookie asked, trying to keep her fear from her voice. She didn't know if she was more afraid of his body looming over hers or his words in that moment.

Eric stared at her for a few moments, spending a good amount of that stare studying her trembling lips. He leaned in slightly, and Sookie's heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. She wasn't sure if he was going to kiss her or bite her.

He didn't seem sure of what he wanted to do either. "Before I get killed because of you," he finally whispered.

Eric turned back around to face the window, and Sookie sat heavily onto the bed once more, as an uneasy silence fell over the room.

"What other choice do I have to make?" Sookie asked after a few minutes, changing the subject back to where it had begun.

Composed and with an impassive expression on his face once again, Eric turned and retook his seat. "Because his blood is inside of you," Eric started, "Bill will eventually be able to track you down. While we were flying here, I was somehow able to use my own blood to hinder his ability to track you, but his blood will eventually regain its footing, and he will come for you. Plus, Russell's Weres are already tracking Bill, though it may take them a day or so to find him—unless the fool returns home or goes to Russell voluntarily, which are both distinct possibilities, given Bill's past behavior." Eric's expression stayed the same, though his eyes seemed to be apologizing. "Sookie, with Bill's blood in you, I cannot run with you and expect to live, and—make no mistake— I _do_ intend to live. And, with that in mind, I _will_ run―and hide—until I can figure out a way to defeat Russell."

"Are you just gonna leave me here then?" Sookie asked, looking straight into his eyes.

"I don't know," Eric responded softly. "I don't want to. I want to use you, Sookie."

She scoffed at his words and looked downward.

He grabbed her chin in his hand and tilted her face so that her eyes met his again. He was careful not to hurt her with his grip, but he certainly got her attention with it.

"I understand that you do not like to hear that you are an asset, but you are. And that is _not_ a bad thing, Sookie—at least not from a vampire's perspective. If you are an asset, then you live! Godric saw that I was a strong warrior, and he thought that I could be an asset to him; that is why he turned me. I felt the same about Pam before I turned her. I was chosen to be a sheriff because Sophie-Anne knew that I was a good asset. We are _all_ used for our skills by others."

She shook her head out of his grip. "That might be the way things are to vampires, but not to humans!"

"If you think that, then you are more naïve than I thought, little one. Are you not an asset to the shifter?"

"_Sam_ pays me a fair wage to do honest work."

"Just as I paid you for the work you did for me?"

Sookie shook her head stubbornly. "It's not the same."

"No," Eric said just at stubbornly. "I pay better!"

Sookie crossed her arms over her chest. "How do you want to use me now? Wait! I mean—what _honest_ work do you want for me to do for you now?" she asked sarcastically.

He spoke through gritted teeth, "I want you to watch over me during the daytime—or to drive us to new locations while I'm sleeping. I want to use your telepathy to know when Russell's Weres are approaching. And I want to try to harness your light powers so that you can help me defeat Russell."

She shook her head. "So I'll be your employee? Your asset?"

"Yes," he answered quickly—almost angrily. "I will pay you for your time. And you could be my best asset in defeating Russell."

"But how?" she asked desperately. "I'm just a waitress. I know I have telepathy, and the little light thing in my hands is weird, but I can't do anything against a vampire as strong as Russell!"

"There's more to you than you know," Eric said quickly.

"What?" she asked.

Eric shook his head. "Not now, Sookie. That discussion would take us longer than we have left tonight. Plus, I need to speak with someone about what I have learned concerning you first. If you _do_, indeed, trust me as you said earlier, then I'm asking you to do that again—now. I will tell you what I have learned soon—once I know for sure. And if you do not come with me—well—it would be better if you did _not_ know."

Sookie looked at Eric through narrowed eyes. "Fine!" She re-crossed her arms. "You still haven't told me the choice you say I need to make."

Eric sighed and sat back down. "As I said, if you run with me, Bill will be able to track you, and that will soon bring Russell and Sophie-Anne. I couldn't protect you from Russell any more than I could protect myself."

"So you _have_ to leave me behind, or they'll find both of us?" Sookie whispered as realization hit her.

"Yes," Eric answered softly. "Or," he raised his blue eyes to her brown ones, "you could get rid of your blood tie with Bill."

Sookie tilted her head in question. "Huh?"

Eric smirked at her inelegant noise. "It is called a severing spell. A witch would perform a magical spell that would eliminate Bill's blood from your body."

"Witches?" Sookie asked. "Werewolves and vampires just couldn't be enough! Now there are fuckin' witches!" she added sarcastically.

Eric chuckled. "You don't know the half of it, little one. But, yes, there _are_ witches."

She shook her head, trying to take in everything he was saying to her. "So—if I did this spell, Bill couldn't track me?"

"No," Eric confirmed.

"But Bill's had _my_ blood. Wouldn't he be able to track me using that?"

"No," Eric repeated. "It is only when our blood is inside a human that a tie is formed. It is with that tie that we can track a human. Just taking a human's blood doesn't create a connection. Otherwise, vampires would be driven mad by the number of connections we had."

"Can you really feel my emotions—like Bill said he could when I had his blood?"

Eric nodded. "Yes. I can feel them. And—as I said before—I could influence them if I wished."

"Show me what that feels like?" she requested.

Immediately, Eric looked uncomfortable. "I do not wish to," he said.

She sighed. "Do it anyway. I need to know—before I decide what to do about Bill's blood in me."

Eric looked a bit pained, but nodded in agreement.

Moments later, Sookie felt herself breaking out in a cold sweat; she shivered a little and suddenly had the urge to run to the door. A few seconds after that, the feeling subsided.

"Was that you?" she asked.

He nodded. "I used my blood to stir the production of epinephrine, which controls your heart rate, among other things. I take it that you felt it."

She nodded in confirmation.

"Epinephrine is stimulated when you feel fear naturally; by stimulating it unnaturally, I am manipulating your body to feel the same effect."

"Do another one," she requested.

Moments later she felt as if she wanted to hit him.

"Anger?" she asked when the feeling subsided as quickly as it had come to her.

He nodded. "I used my blood to manipulate your levels of adrenaline and noradrenaline. This caused your heart rate and blood pressure to increase."

She shivered. "How can I know that everything I've been feelin'—for _months_—hasn't been a lie?"

Eric sighed. "I don't know, but I think that you could probably sense the presence of something foreign in you just now—correct?"

She nodded in affirmation.

"Then Bill's use of his blood would have had to have been subtle for you not to notice it, and I imagine that your own blood was resistant. But it's difficult to be sure. I can say that I felt your blood trying to resist the influence of mine just now. And I felt it doing the same with Bill's in the hospital."

She took a deep breath. "Does the blood really 'increase the libido?'" Sookie asked, using air quotes around the words Bill had used.

Eric quirked a brow. "Is that what Bill said?" He chuckled. "I suppose that's true in a way. However, it is not that general. The blood increases your attraction for _only_ the particular vampire who fed you. Surely, you have felt more pulled toward me since you took those drops of me, Sookie." He smirked. "I sensed that you were attracted to me even before; however, after you had my blood, you've had a more difficult time denying that attraction—have you not?"

She glared at him and he chuckled.

"Though _not_ right now," he grinned.

She shook her head. "Of course," she said ruefully, "how have I not thought of this before?" She smacked her head. "Stupid, Sookie—stupid!"

Eric looked at her in question.

"Bill said that his blood would increase my libido in a general way—at least, that was what he implied. But it was right after that . . . ." She stopped midsentence and closed her eyes as tears rose into them. "Is anything I feel for Bill real? Or has it all just been manufactured by his blood in me?"

She felt Eric's touch on her shoulder. The contact comforted her, and she felt herself leaning into it.

She laughed ruefully. "How can I even know if the comfort I'm feeling from this," she looked at his hand, "is real?" She raised her eyes to his. "What's real, Eric?"

Not liking her lost expression, the vampire shrugged, "As far as what is real regarding Bill Compton, I cannot even begin to guess—though he acts like a vampire who is obsessed with a human. In my thousand years, I have seen such things. _He_ calls it love, but . . . ." Eric stopped.

"But?" Sookie asked.

Eric smiled, "Miss Stackhouse, on the topic of Bill Compton—especially concerning his affections for you—I am _not_ to be trusted. I find that my bias against him is strong."

She laughed through her tears.

"If I break the tie with Bill—get his blood out of me—then I can go with you?"

Eric nodded. "That is what I want."

"Because you wanna use me?"

Eric nodded again. "Yes."

"Is there _any_ part of you that also wants to protect me, Eric?"

Eric sighed and nodded for a third time. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke of his sincerity—or at least that's what Sookie's instincts were telling her she saw in his blue orbs.

"If I don't do it, Bill won't leave me alone—will he?" Sookie asked.

Eric shook his head. "I don't think so. He will come to you now out of the feeling that he needs to save you from me. He will continue coming because he feels that he loves you. He might even really have that affection for you, Sookie. But his inability to stay away will eventually be a problem for you."

"Because he'll lead Russell right to me."

"Yes."

"And Russell wants me."

"Yes. So does Sophie-Anne," Eric said. "And those two are together now—as I said before."

"So goin' home and just hopin' they don't come is a fairy tale."

Eric smiled, "Good choice of words, little one."

Sookie, of course, didn't catch Eric's double meaning.

She looked at the floor sadly. "Bill almost drained me in that van."

"He was following his instinct to live," Eric allowed.

"He could have raped me too—did you know that? I felt his legs parting my legs and his hand on my . . . ." She paused. "His hands on _me_ before I passed out."

Eric had _not_ known that, and he couldn't control his low growl.

"Were you," Eric paused, "sore?"

Sookie looked a little uncertain. "No. Not when I woke up."

"My blood might have," Eric hissed out, "covered things, and you had pain medication in your body too. It might have numbed you," he said angrily.

Sookie let out a shaky breath. "I don't think he did. While you were out of the room, I asked Tara and Alcide if it looked like he'd," she paused, "done _that_ before they stopped him. And they said no. My clothes were still on. And so were his."

Eric's shoulders relaxed visibly. "Okay," he said.

"But he was moving to climb on top of me." Sookie said softly—bitterly. "Was that part of his instinct too?"

Eric shook his head. "That—Sookie—_is_ matter of control. With bloodlust come other kinds of lust—most notably sexual—but those can be controlled."

"Even in a state like Bill was in?" Sookie asked. "He was very weak."

Eric scoffed, "He'd obviously grown strong enough with your blood to be able to force himself upon you. So he was strong enough to be able to listen to his mind instead of simply his carnal nature. Rape is a weak act performed by weak people, Sookie."

Sookie was surprised by the fervor behind his words.

Eric continued. "Vampires _should_ be strong creatures. Yes. We can and do take what we want, but the moment we allow ourselves to take something like that—to rape—then we truly do become unthinking monsters."

Sookie shook her head. "I don't understand you, Eric Northman. One minute, you say things like that. And the next, you trick your blood into me or tell me you want to use me. You've made it clear that you want to take my blood too. And I _know_ you want my body."

"But I've taken neither, Sookie. I want to, but I have not."

"So you are fighting your vampire instincts?"

Eric smiled. "Yes. Every single fucking minute I am with you."

"But you tricked me into taking your blood. And now you can feel me and apparently affect my emotions."

"True," Eric said. "But I _do_ have a line, Sookie. I may not draw it where a human might, but I draw it very differently than many vampires would."

"Like Bill?" Sookie asked as she trembled a little.

"Yes. It is safe to say that Bill and I have _very_ different lines," Eric said before standing up and returning to the window again.

* * *

**A/N: This will be the last chapter until after I pick this story back up next Wednesday (Feb. 12). I have a long work day tomorrow AND a doctor's appointment too. But—four chapters in a week ain't bad. **

**I'll be moving to **_**Touch the Flame**_** midweek, so—if you are following that story—you can expect something around Friday or Saturday (I hope). **

**Thanks for all the continued support of this story!**

**XOXO,**

**Kat **


	10. Chapter 10: Choice 3

**Chapter 10: Choice #3**

_Sookie shook her head. "I don't understand you, Eric Northman. One minute, you say things like that. And the next, you trick your blood into me or tell me you want to use me. You've made it clear that you want to take my blood too. And I know you want my body."_

"_But I've taken neither, Sookie. I want to, but I have not."_

"_So you are fighting your vampire instincts?"_

_Eric smiled. "Yes. Every single fucking minute I am with you."_

"_But you tricked me into taking your blood. And now you can feel me and apparently affect my emotions."_

"_True," Eric said. "But I do have a line, Sookie. I may not draw it where a human might, but I draw it very differently than many vampires would."_

"_Like Bill?" Sookie asked as she trembled a little. _

_"Yes. It is safe to say that Bill and I have very different lines," Eric said before standing up and returning to the window again. _

There were several minutes of silence between Eric and Sookie as Eric pushed the mini blinds apart and gazed outside. Meanwhile, Sookie kept her eyes trained on his back. She had no idea why she was staring at him—had no idea what she wanted to find out by studying the set of his shoulders or the strength of his posture. She didn't need to look at him to know that he was a beautiful man or that she was attracted to him. She'd known those things from the first moment she'd seen him in Fangtasia, and she'd also had the opportunity get an even better look at him in the basement of his club.

Despite the memory of seeing him in all of his naked glory, Sookie wasn't looking at him with lust, nor did she feel fear or anger anymore. She found herself curious more than anything else. She found herself wondering about all of the worries that Eric clearly had resting on his broad shoulders. She found herself wanting to help him. She found herself wondering if she could.

"You are curious about something," Eric remarked as he let the mini blinds close and turned once more to face her.

"Yes."

"You wonder what the spell would entail?" he asked.

"Yes. But that's not what I was curious about. I was wondering about you."

Eric chuckled. "I am—as they say—an open book, Sookie Stackhouse."

She tilted her head a little. "That's a lie. Just then—you lied to me."

"It was more of a joke really," he remarked. "Tell me—what did it feel like?"

"A little twitch?" she said half-answered and half-asked.

"Interesting."

"How so?"

He smirked. "I'm not sure."

"You're not lying," she smirked back.

"You're right," he chuckled before becoming more serious—too serious for her all of a sudden. "I'm never quite sure when it comes to you." His blues eyes seemed to tread into her very soul.

She closed her eyes for a moment in order to regain her bearings. "What _would_ doing the severing spell entail?" she asked when she opened them again.

"I will not lie, Sookie. It would be painful for you. Very painful."

She took a deep breath. "Figures," she said sarcastically.

"Your reaction is amusing, Miss Stackhouse."

"Glad to be of service, Mr. Northman," she said even more sarcastically. However, her tone changed to one of concern. "And Bill?"

Sookie's obvious care for Compton caused a deep sigh to emanate from Eric's chest. "The spell would be done during the daytime. Bill would go to his rest feeling you, and—if all went according to plan—he would rise _not_ feeling you. He will think that you are dead, but he will feel no physical pain from the spell."

Sookie took in Eric's words with a gasp. "What if I don't break my tie with him?"

Eric paced for a moment before sitting down before her. "Okay, Sookie. Here is the score. I flew us to this location for three reasons. First, as I have pointed out, you are a homing beacon for Compton, and as far as I am concerned, he is my enemy and will inevitably be exploited by a much greater enemy—Russell. This residence is, thankfully, far enough away from the hospital to ensure that Bill cannot get to us before daybreak—that is, if he's been able to track you at all."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"As we journeyed here, I used my blood to try to block his—to keep it from being able to pull him to you. I am not sure if I was successful—at least, not at first. But—once I determined _how_ to do it—I believe I was able to block him. However, my learning curve likely gave Bill some insight into the direction we took."

"What about now?" Sookie asked. "Are you still using your blood to—uh—block him?"

Eric shook his head. "No, but that brings me to my second reason for bringing you here. As I told you earlier, this home is the first stop on my escape route; thus, it boasts a little magic. When I walked in the door tonight, I activated that magic."

"What kind of magic?"

"It is a spell that conceals the presence of the beings in this place from any Supernaturals," Eric answered. "It even blocks blood connections—like my connection with Pam. I can sense her location, but she would not be able to sense mine. While you were sleeping, I went outside of the spell's perimeter and tested its efficacy. As soon as I passed the property line, I could neither sense you inside, nor could I connect with my blood in you. And—until I was back on the property—I couldn't smell you either. I could sense that you were living, but that is all. I had no sense of where you were."

"So Bill can't find me here?" Sookie asked.

"No. He cannot sense you as long as you are inside the borders of the spell."

"Would I be safe if I stayed here?" Sookie asked. "I mean—if I don't do the severing spell, would it be safe for me to just stay here?"

Eric shook his head a little sadly. "Now that it has been activated, the concealment spell will last for only forty-eight hours or so. The spell could be renewed, but—if I was unsuccessful in blocking his blood—Bill may have been able to sense your general vicinity before your trail was blocked by the spell. If he did, he will come to this area sooner rather than later, and the magic used to keep your presence in the house concealed couldn't be sustained indefinitely." He ran his hand through his hair. "That said, you could stay here if you wished, and I would even arrange for a witch to come and renew the spell for as long as possible. That might buy you a week—maybe even a month—depending on the amount of ingredients my witch associate has available, but her supplies are not infinite."

He paused. "This residence is officially owned by a human; thus, vampires must have permission to enter, but Weres could come in or vampires could burn you out.

"I see," Sookie said dejectedly. "What's the third reason you brought me here?" she asked after a moment.

He gestured toward the window. "The sun will be up in about forty minutes, and—as much as I would like to stay here for the day—that is no longer wise."

Sookie sighed. "Because Bill might have been able to track me."

"Yes. If he did, _he_ couldn't make it here before daybreak, but he _could_ call in reinforcements, and I would be vulnerable. We both would be."

Sookie closed her eyes. "So it's not safe here."

Eric shrugged. "Like I said, the spell does conceal our scents, so Weres couldn't sense us inside, but," he sighed, "they could establish a radius around the area which would essentially trap us inside the house. If that happened, flight would be our only escape option, and Russell is capable of flight too. _And_ he is faster than I."

"And his Weres could move him into position before nightfall," Sookie said.

"Many things would have to happen in order for him to be here before dark tonight, but it _is_ possible," Eric said. "I cannot take that chance."

"And we couldn't wait Russell out because eventually the concealing spell would run out."

Eric nodded. "Yes."

"So Bill's blood—is it—uh—doing anything in me right now?" she asked with trepidation.

Eric sighed. "Yes. Bill's blood is quite active—even now. It _is_ trying to seek him, but I can tell that it has no current contact with its master."

"But the spell on the house didn't stop your blood from influencing me."

"That is because we are both inside the spell. As I said, it works only to cover us from those who are outside."

"How can you tell all this stuff about Bill's blood? Is that normal?" Sookie asked curiously.

"I have little experience with blood ties," Eric answered honestly. "All I can say is that I've been able to monitor the actions of Bill's blood in you—just as I can monitor my own blood. But I cannot control his blood." He paused. "I tried once we got here, but still it seeks its master." He paused again, this time for a little longer. "Bill's blood in you is resilient. And he did manage to find you at the hospital—despite the fact that you were very weak."

"_You_ found me too," she reminded.

Eric grinned, enjoying the challenge that was in her eyes. "Yes—but I am older, and I am an extremely proficient tracker."

"And now that you healed me tonight? Now that I've had so much more of your blood?" Sookie asked.

"Bill may have a harder time tracking you down now, but, as I said, he _will_ be able to do it eventually, after the spell around this house dissipates." He sighed. "It takes much concentration to block his blood from seeking him. Even if what I did worked, I cannot guarantee that I could keep it up."

"Okay," Sookie said with determination in her eyes. "So what do _you_ want to do?"

He smiled. "Down to the chase—eh? Well, that suits me just fine. The third reason I chose this location is because I have a car nearby, one that I had specially made and one that cannot be traced to me. It has a compartment that is light tight. I suggest that I call my witch friend in New Orleans and ask her to get ready for a severing spell that will remove Bill's blood from your body. I propose that we go to my car and that once day begins, you drive us to Slidell, which is only thirty minutes or so from New Orleans. I have another safe house there."

"The second stop on your personal underground railroad?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Actually it's the _first_ stop on an old route, but I've kept the residence in reserve for emergencies."

"Always prepared—eh?" she asked.

"It's the boy scout in me," he winked.

She rolled her eyes as he continued, "By the time I awaken tonight, we will be in Slidell, and—the morning after that—the severing spell can be done if that is what you choose."

"What about Bill? Wouldn't he be able to track me to Slidell once it's nighttime again?"

"No. I would ask the witch to place a concealment spell—similar to, though longer-lasting than, the one here—over the Slidell house. If you decided not to do the severing spell once we got there, that spell would buy you more time, and Octavia could renew it there as much as she were able, but—again—it could not be sustained indefinitely."

"And if I _did_ do the severing spell?"

Eric moved to sit next to her on the bed. "After the spell, Sookie, you would likely be very ill and weak for several days, but we could stay in the Slidell house while you recovered. After that—well—by then, I hope to have some things figured out. Maybe Octavia could even help with Russell." Sookie noticed that he looked a little uncertain, and that expression worried her.

"Octavia is the witch's name?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Do you trust her?"

He shrugged. "I have saved her life, so she owes me. And I have known her for over four decades. She practices the old ways, so loyalty means something to her. Many witches work for the highest bidder, but Octavia is not one of them. I trust her as much as I am capable of trusting someone who does not share my blood, and no one, except for you, knows of my connection with her—not even Pam."

Sookie inhaled deeply. "What if I decide not to trust her? What if I decide _not_ to go with you at all? What if I stay here?"

Seemingly emotionlessly, Eric pulled out his wallet and grabbed a wad of cash and a business card. "Then I suggest you run, Sookie. This card is for a man in Shreveport who can get you new driver's licenses and passports. This is important: you must say a code word—'meatloaf'—whenever you call him."

"Meatloaf?" she asked incredulously.

"Brady likes to think he's funny," Eric smirked. "I had to take flight to get us both out of a jam once, and he sings 'Bat out of Hell' to me whenever he truly wants to annoy me."

Sookie chuckled, but sobered immediately when Eric went on.

"Brady can also teach you how to conceal your additional identification papers so that they are not found as you travel." He handed her a disposable cell phone. "He's expecting your call and has already started to get documents together for you. All he needs is a picture. I will also instruct him to give you additional money."

Not giving Sookie a chance to protest about the money, Eric continued, "You should be able to arrange a pick-up of your documents day after tomorrow. As soon as you get them, go to the nearest airport and get on a plane. Pay cash for the ticket and make sure the flight takes off during the daytime—the earlier in the day, the better. I suggest you go to an island; Hawaii would be a good starting point.

"Then what?"

"Then you should move, and keep moving. Change the name that you use with every plane trip if possible. And rotate your identities. Asia is a good place to get lost in, and it is not very friendly to vampires, so you should make your way there as soon as possible, but don't stop moving once you get there. Remember that Bill will still be able to track you, though the farther away you are from him, the harder it will be for him to get a lock on you. At times, Brady may be able to help you find some relatively safe locations to stay the night, but you will have to find others on your own."

"But Bill—he'll still find me?" Sookie asked meekly. "He'll still get to me?"

Eric nodded. "Yes. If he pursues, he will catch up with you eventually. But—if you are very lucky—Russell will not have gotten to him, and you will both be across the world when Bill tracks you down. Then—perhaps—the 'love' that he bears for you will help him to forgive you for running from him in the first place." Eric lowered his voice. "However, he will no longer trust you, and—when he finds you—he will likely feed you even more of his blood to ensure your compliance. But—perhaps—you could resist him," he said, sounding almost as disheartened as she felt in that moment.

Sookie shivered. "What if I do the severing spell and _then_ separate from you?"

Eric tensed up a bit. "I am a reasonable vampire, Sookie, but if you go through with the severing spell, then you throw your lot in with me. If I were kinder—perhaps—I would arrange for the severing spell with no strings attached, but," he sighed, "I truly believe that I will need you to help me defeat Russell, so the severing spell comes with a price."

Sookie went to speak, but Eric stopped her with a stern look.

"Before you protest about your inability to do anything of great importance to help me, think for a moment about the value of just having a telepathic human that I trust along with me. You could drive to new locations during the day. You could monitor for danger with your gift."

"How do you know I wouldn't just pick a day and leave you behind?" Sookie asked. "Even if I had your blood, I doubt if you'd deviate from your route to track me down," she added perceptively.

"You're right," Eric responded. But as I said, I trust you, especially when it relates to keeping your word. And if you decide to go with me, you would be—in effect—promising to help me until Russell is dead and we are both safe."

She sighed heavily. "So you would trust my word?"

"Yes. I believe that—once given—your word means a great deal to you."

"How long would I have to run from Bill if I _didn't_ do the severing spell?"

Eric sighed. "When did Bill last give you blood?"

Sookie blushed. "Does it count when he healed his bite marks with his blood after—you know . . . ." Her voice trailed off.

Eric shook his head. "No—you have to drink directly from him for it to count."

Sookie thought for a moment. "The Maenad. No wait!" She turned redder. "Actually, two days before he went missing, we were . . . ."

"Having sex?" Eric supplied, a mixture of amusement about her modesty and something akin to jealousy in his eyes.

"Yes," Sookie confirmed. "We were doing _that_, and I tasted blood while we were kissing."

All of Eric's amusement was suddenly gone. "Bill pierced his tongue with his fang?"

Sookie nodded. "Yes."

"Think, Sookie," he ordered. "Had that ever happened before during your sexual encounters?"

She shook her head. "No—that was the only time I ever tasted his blood like that during—uh—sex. I figured it was an accident." She blushed. "But it kind of added to the overall effect, so I didn't. . . ." She paused and looked at the floor as her blush spread to her neck. "I didn't complain."

"It _could_ have been an accident," Eric said almost to himself. Then he looked at Sookie seriously, "Tell me, Sookie. Did he bite you that night?"

She nodded. "Yes. He always bites—or—uh—_bit_—me during. . . ."

Eric tensed. "_Always_?"

Sookie nodded as Eric got up and paced a little, saying something in another language that sounded a lot like angry cursing.

When he spoke to her again, his tone was forceful. "Did he bite you before or after you tasted his blood in your kiss, Sookie?"

Sookie thought for a moment. "After. He likes to bite right when he is—um—you know," she paused, "finishing. But wait . . . ."

"Wait?" he asked.

"That's not right. That night, he bit me right after I tasted his blood. I figured that he was just—um—extra excited." By now, she was the color of a beet.

Eric cursed again.

"What?" she asked.

"Listen, Sookie," Eric said almost regretfully. "The severing spell might not even be an option for you. It seems that Bill was trying to bond with you."

"Bond?"

Eric nodded. "There is no time to tell you everything about bonds, but I will say that they are permanent and unbreakable."

"What?" she gasped.

"Sookie, I need you to answer my next questions quickly and accurately."

"Eric, you're scarin' me," she said, "even more than I was scared before!"

"Good!" he exclaimed. "You should be scared! Now answer! How many times have you and Bill had an _exchange_ of blood?"

"An exchange?" she asked.

"Yes," Eric explained. "An exchange occurs when a human and a vampire drink each other's blood simultaneously or within moments of one another. Specifically, the taste of one another's blood must be in both of your mouths at the same time. A bond forms after three such exchanges. If you and Bill have a bond, then _no_ spell will sever your connection."

Sookie tensed. "The first night Bill gave me his blood, I'd been attacked. He saved my life; when I woke up, I tasted his blood, and he was licking my wounds. Does that count?"

Eric closed his eyes and nodded. He lifted two fingers. "Yes. That is twice when the other night is counted."

Sookie shivered and thought back to every time she'd taken Bill's blood: after the Rattrays beat her, after the Maenad attacked her, and during sex two nights before he proposed to her. Could there have been other times that she didn't remember? Could there have been times when Bill made her drink his blood while she was sleeping?

As if he could sense her questions, Eric shook his head. "Sookie, you have to _knowingly_ drink for the magic to work; that means you _would_ have tasted his blood."

Sookie closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "He drank from me a lot more than three times, and I drank from him three times exactly—if you factor in what I took after the Maenad attack—but he didn't take from me that night. So there were only two exchanges."

Eric also looked relieved. "Using my blood in you, I'm going to try to confirm that there's not a bond—okay?" he asked.

"How?"

"I'm going to isolate some of Bill's blood and try to surround it with mine. If it is fully bonded to yours, I don't think I will be able to do it."

"Okay."

"You might feel something when I do this."

"Okay," she repeated nervously.

He closed his eyes and activated his blood, once more telling it to look for Bill's blood inside of Sookie's body. As he looked, he picked up traces of blood that held Lorena's and Longshadow's essences, but he did not mention those lifeless and drifting cells to Sookie. Now that those vampires were dead, their blood would wear away. Meanwhile, that blood would remain harmless and dormant inside of her—unless, of course, she agreed to the severing spell. Then it would burn quickly away.

As Eric found some of Bill's blood, he used his own to study it—to analyze it as he'd not done before he'd found out that a bond could be a possibility.

The Viking thought of his maker as he surrounded Bill's blood cells with his own. Godric had been fascinated by science, and, over the centuries, had often glamoured scientists to study aspects of both human and vampire blood. In fact—before his radical character transformation—Godric had once bonded with a human, partly so that he could learn about the chemistry of such a connection.

Godric had told Eric that when vampire blood bonded to human blood, there was an extra linking that could be felt and "seen" in the blood. If bonded to a human's blood, the vampire's blood literally traveled as part of the human's blood through the bloodstream—instead of alongside and separate from that blood. Since vampire blood generally traveled slower than human blood, the vampire could sense a "quickening" of his or her blood in the human once a true bonding occurred.

Godric had said that his bond with a human had literally enlivened his own blood. But there had been a consequence. When Godric's bonded human had died of old age, Godric had immediately become depressed by the loss. Eric pinpointed that moment as the one that eventually led to his maker meeting the sun.

"Well?" Sookie asked impatiently. "I feel something like a tickle inside of me. What are you—uh—seein' in there?"

"Bill's blood does not seem to be bonded to yours," he said as he opened his eyes.

"That's good—right?"

Eric nodded. "Yes. But we'll get Octavia to confirm."

Sookie sighed with relief. "Okay. Well—at least you didn't see something obvious. That's something."

"Yes." Eric looked toward the window. "My car is five minutes away by flight, Sookie, and it is now only twenty minutes before dawn." He paused and looked back at her. "The last time you had Bill's blood was two days before he disappeared—correct?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Just over a week ago," she said with amazement as she thought about how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

"Then, you will need to keep running for 112 days if you don't undergo the severing spell with Bill. That is the longest his blood could stay alive in you without a new dosage. And you can begin a count of 120 days for mine as of today. Until that time is over, keep moving from place to place and stay to yourself. Change your appearance often. Do not make friends, and do not get a job. Claim that you are a tourist. Travel during the day and try to stay in private residences at night when you can. Things like bed and breakfast establishments or private boarding houses will be closed to vampires; however, vampires can freely enter into hotels, so try to avoid those if you can. Brady will, as I said, get you the money you require, and—hopefully—he can help you find some safe havens too."

"And after that?"

"Then, you can stop moving so much, but stay away from this area. Do _not_ return home—or even to the United States. Follow the summer and the sun by going far north or far south with the changing seasons. Go where the night is short. And, every few months, check in with Brady at that number," Eric pointed to the card. "If I succeed in killing Russell and Sophie-Anne so that the threat against you is eliminated, I will get you word through him."

Sookie bit her lip. "Why are you willing to help me? I mean—whatever I choose to do, you are helping me."

"You are an asset," Eric said in a quiet, almost strained tone.

Sookie looked into Eric's eyes, knowing that she would have to trust him no matter what her decision was—and knowing that she _did_ trust him.

"You have four minutes to make your decision, Sookie," Eric said softly before getting up to put the rest of the clothing in the dresser into a duffle bag that he pulled out of the closet.

She took a deep breath. "I don't need them," she said. "I'm choosing you—uh—to go with you, that is."

Eric turned around and gave her a little smile.

"You are?"

"Yes," she confirmed.

"Good. Take care of your human needs quickly while I prepare directions for you to follow to get to the Slidell house."

Sookie nodded and went to the bathroom. Then she grabbed the toothpaste and unopened toothbrush she saw on the counter.

As she exited the bathroom, she saw that Eric was pouring some liquid from a small bottle onto his fingers. He then rubbed the liquid onto his forehead.

"What's that?" she asked.

"This will conceal my scent once we leave this place." He gestured for her to come closer and then rubbed a few drops of the liquid onto her forehead as well.

His touch made Sookie shiver, as well as feel other things that she wished she didn't.

"Is that feeling because of your blood?" she asked as Eric put the stopper back onto the bottle and carefully put it into the duffel bag. He showed her some bottled water and granola bars, which he put into the bag as well. She didn't ask where they'd come from.

"Maybe," Eric smirked. "Or maybe you're just attracted to me on your own."

Sookie rolled her eyes.

"Ready?" he asked, even as he activated his blood to block Bill's once they were outside of the concealment spell.

"Yes."

He threw the duffle bag over his shoulder, quickly picked her up, zipped up to the roof, and took off into the graying sky. He would have just enough time to get himself into the light-tight compartment in the car and text Octavia before the sun rose.

* * *

**A/N: Hello again! Well—it's my week to work on **_**Uninvited**_**! I'm hoping to get you two more chapters this week, but one might be more realistic. I have a short-term class finishing up, which means finals and final essays to grade. And grades are due on Tuesday. But we'll see. **

**I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews that keep filtering in for this story! I'm glad that many of you are enjoying it! **

**Next up: We will go back in time a bit and see what Russell has been up to. Let's just say—he's been busy. ;) **

**Kat **

**P.S. Remember that my WordPress has pictures. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	11. Chapter 11: The King

**Chapter 11: The King**

"_Ready?" Eric asked, even as he activated his blood to block Bill's once they were outside of the concealment spell. _

"_Yes," Sookie responded._

_He threw the duffle bag over his shoulder, quickly picked her up, zipped up to the roof, and took off into the graying sky. He would have just enough time to get himself into the light-tight compartment in the car and text Octavia before the sun rose._

* * *

_**Four hours and twenty minutes earlier **_

As soon as Russell hung up the phone with Talbot, the ancient king turned around and took in the form of the Viking. Eric's posture was relaxed as he watched Sophie-Anne and an adequate-smelling human fucking in the corner of the room.

Russell glanced at the pair and then scowled. He had never much understood lesbian sex, nor had he found it even remotely entertaining. As far as he was concerned, sex without at least two cocks present was a fucking waste of time and effort! However, Sophie-Anne seemed to be enjoying herself, and anything that kept her from annoying him was welcome—much welcome.

The king chuckled. Perhaps there was _something_ good about lesbian sex, after all.

Russell turned his attention fully to Northman as he approached the bar. He noticed that the Viking's progeny, Pamela, was nowhere to be seen. The king licked his lips as he took in the beautiful vision before him.

Russell liked the tall blonde—even though his own tastes tended to skew toward olive skinned brunettes like his current paramour. But Northman was undeniably handsome, and his good looks weren't the only feature on his impressive resume. Northman was _all_ man—obviously an alpha. And Russell loved to tame an alpha—to fight with him for control in bed before ultimately fucking him senseless. Occasionally, he'd even let an alpha fuck him, and—having felt Eric's impressive tool—Russell expected to fully enjoy _all_ that Eric had to offer at least once before he established permanent dominance over the Viking.

However, something had been needling at Russell regarding Eric. But for the un-death of him, the ancient vampire couldn't quite put his finger on it. Northman _seemed_ to be completely loyal. He _seemed_ to be accommodating. He _seemed_ to be a more-than-worthy candidate for a lover. In short, he _seemed_ to be perfect.

But something just felt _off_ to Russell, especially after his phone call with Talbot. His consort had told him about the tour he'd given Eric of the mansion, as well as about the Viking's interest in the sixteenth century Japanese erotica in the collection. Talbot was anxious to see if Eric would try some of the more adventurous three-vampire configurations depicted in one of the scrolls. However, that was not the part of the conversation that had troubled Russell. It had been a casual comment by Talbot—an aside about Eric's interest in the Viking crown that Russell had taken from a minor king more than a thousand years before.

Something about that had raised a flicker of misgiving in Russell, but—again—he couldn't quite figure out where his doubts regarding Northman were coming from. After all, why wouldn't Eric be interested in an artifact from his own culture? Well-preserved things, such as that crown, were few and far between.

To set his mind as ease, Russell decided to question Eric about the crown. He carefully studied the Norseman's expression as he mentioned the crown in casual conversation. He even offered to give the artifact to Eric at one point, but other than a flash of what seemed to be gratefulness on the Viking's face—which was followed up by his respectful refusal and then gracious acceptance of the gift—Eric's countenance remained steady. In fact, Eric's blue eyes contained no signs of duplicity whatsoever. On the contrary, they held the appropriate mixture of awe and adoration that Russell was used to getting from younger vampires.

However, there was something missing from those eyes too—something that Russell was also used to seeing from lesser vampires than himself: fear.

Even Talbot's eyes held a bit of fear when he was in Russell's presence! However, Northman didn't seem to be afraid of him—not even a little. And that _was_ out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was the Viking's lack of fear that had been giving Russell pause.

Out of the corner of his eye, Russell continued to study Eric. Of course, the Viking was only a child compared to Russell. But he was quite old compared to most other vampires—especially in the New World. And he was well known for his prowess in battle—for his audaciousness and lack of fear. Perhaps it simply wasn't in the Viking's nature to _show_ any fear—even if he felt it. Or perhaps his maker's influence accounted for the absence. By all accounts, Godric had been a competent maker—though his ending had been pathetic to say the least.

Indeed, perhaps Eric's lack of fear was a sign of his worthiness. Or—perhaps—the Viking was arrogant. Clearly, he was interested in being the king's lover. Eric had grown aroused by Russell's touch in the limousine. Perhaps, the Viking did not believe there was a reason to fear. Russell grinned. He would enjoy training Eric Northman to know better. Respect and adoration were just a step away from fear—after all—and the Viking already had those for him in spades.

However, Russell still felt something nagging at him regarding the Norseman, like a word on the tip of his tongue or a memory that he couldn't quite grab hold of.

Thus, the king followed Eric for a while once he sent him to Talbot. Three thousand years before, Russell had not risen with the ability to fly, but it was a skill that he had developed over time. And given his advanced age, Russell was much faster than the Viking. Plus, as a multi-thousand-year-old creature, his other senses were much more developed than Eric's as well. His sense of smell, for example, was unrivaled.

Staying at the edge of his own range so that the Viking would not know that he was following, Russell trailed Eric until he was certain that the younger vampire was following his orders to the letter. Only then did he turn back.

Russell was not one to ignore his instincts, however. If his gut was telling him that something was amiss concerning Eric Northman, then it was. Perhaps, it was simple—a little white lie. Perhaps Eric was still loyal to Sophie-Anne, despite his insistence to the contrary. That sort of thing, however, was easily remedied, for Russell knew that he was much more worthy of devotion than Sophie-Anne Leclerq.

Or—perhaps—Eric was not really a lover of men. Russell had had many a vampire over the years who had sought him out for advancement or advantage—rather than because of attraction. The ancient vampire, however, did not care if this was the case. A lover was a lover in his opinion, and a reluctant lover had often been a wonderful source of amusement for the king.

Russell closed his eyes and licked his lips as his fangs clicked down. Very likely the Viking had been a novice to the pleasures of male-on-male love before his turning, and that meant that he'd been a virgin to anal sex upon his first death. The Norseman had had a male maker, and Godric had been known to dally with both genders when it came to taking lovers; thus, Eric would be "broken in" mentally. However, physically, his anatomy would have healed after each encounter he had with a man. Consequently, he would still be as tight as an unseasoned virgin. Russell grinned. Yes—a little reluctance on the part of the Viking would be a welcome diversion for the king.

With that in mind, Russell decided to put his reservations about the Viking on the back-burner—at least for the moment. However, he was not going to ignore his misgivings either. He texted Talbot and told his consort to keep an eye on the Viking. He knew that Talbot wouldn't mind that task in the least, so the king gave his lover permission to "play" with Eric as much as he desired as long as trusted Weres or vampires were also present. Talbot loved exhibitionism, so having an audience would not be a problem for him. And—most importantly—Russell would know that his mate was safe.

That taken care of, Russell flew to Bon Temps and quickly found the telepath's home. Unfortunately, her scent was fading—likely several days old. Russell did, however, find a fresh scent that he recognized: Debbie Pelt.

Debbie had recently joined his Were pack and had been planning to marry and breed with his Alpha male, Cooter. After a quick round of questioning and a little glamour to calm down the distraught Were-bitch, Russell learned that Debbie intended to lie in wait so that she could take her revenge for her mate's death. She apparently blamed Miss Stackhouse for the murder; she also screeched out that Sookie was a "whore" and had stolen Alcide Herveaux's affections from her as well. The king recognized Herveaux's name and immediately dispatched some of his Weres to find Alcide's father, who could be used as a useful piece of leverage over his son. Jackson Herveaux was certain to be on one of the casino boats on the Mississippi River at this time of night. And—since Russell owned most of them—the elder Herveaux would be an easy find.

Russell debated for a moment about what to do with Debbie. Killing her might be for the best. She was clearly addicted to V to the point that it impaired and depleted her already iffy mental acuity. And a rabid dog was often more liability than benefit.

The king liked for his Weres to enjoy V, and he certainly used his blood to make sure they were _controlled_, but he didn't want them so dependent that their ability to function was impaired.

However, seeing the zeal in Debbie's eyes and knowing that she was also connected to Alcide Herveaux—whom Debbie confirmed was the Were who had helped Sookie to escape—Russell decided to use the Were-bitch. After all, Cooter had seen something worthy in her, so perhaps she would be more valuable than she looked. Like Debbie, the king was also pissed off about the loss of his Alpha Were. Cooter had not been the cleverest of the Alphas who had run his pack over the millennia—not by a long shot—and, frankly, the pack had been degrading. The fiascos with Compton had been proof of that. However, Cooter's ability to recruit new members had been surprisingly impressive.

Plus, Debbie could enter the telepath's home. Uninvited vampires could not. Therefore, her presence gave Russell more of an advantage. Confident that Sookie would not be returning to her home that night, Russell told Debbie to continue watching the house, but ordered her to _capture_ the telepath instead of killing her. He offered Debbie a special reward―a vial of his own blood―if she brought him the telepath in one piece. The V-addicted Were, of course, leapt at the chance, but—just to be sure—Russell glamoured Debbie so that she wouldn't permanently damage Sookie Stackhouse. After all, a telepath was a much more valuable asset than a V-addled Were.

Leaving Sookie's home under Debbie's tolerably-able watch, the king returned to Fangtasia, where he'd already ordered twenty or so members of his pack to meet him. He was pleased to see that they had just arrived from Jackson and had already set up a perimeter around Fangtasia.

Unfortunately, he was also greeted by a very pissed off Sophie-Anne; in truth, Russell had almost forgotten about "his" queen and really didn't want to deal with her complaints anymore, so he quickly arranged for her to go to one of Northman's safe houses for the day. If Russell's suspicions about Eric had any merit, perhaps Sophie-Anne would be killed in some snare the Viking had left behind.

One could only hope.

With that in mind, Russell had ordered a couple of his younger, weaker Weres to "escort" the queen to Eric's most well-known address and then to Mississippi the next night. Russell smiled at the possibility of being rid of Sophie-Anne. He was still considering the pros and cons of keeping her around, but if she were assassinated by one of her own underlings, the king could play the grieving widower. In fact, he texted Talbot to tell him to begin preparations for a new "mourning" wardrobe for them both. Even if Russell ended up not killing Sophie-Anne, the new wardrobe would give his lover a welcome distraction for a while.

Once Sophie-Anne and her new "girl-toy" were out of the way, the king fed from one of the donors Eric had arranged, even as he fucked the other. It was a pleasing experience, so when he sent them away, he glamoured them to return the next night.

After feeding, Russell went back to work. He assigned some of his Weres to find and then watch Sookie's brother and friends. He ordered a few others to join Debbie at the telepath's home and to watch Compton's home as well. Two others were dispatched to Alcide Herveaux's Shreveport address, while another was sent to stake out his business.

By 4:00 a.m., all of the dispatched Weres had made contact with their subjects except for the ones who had been assigned to Tara Thornton and Alcide Herveaux. That was not surprising to the king. After all, they had been with Miss Stackhouse and Bill Compton during the escape. The ones that were sent to watch Jason Stackhouse and Lafayette Reynolds reported that the young men had just arrived at their respective homes; however, that didn't seem unusual for either man. According to Compton's file, Stackhouse was a "tomcat" and had likely been off fucking. And Reynolds was a known V-user; in fact, Compton had made note of many nights when the flamboyant human had not returned to his home until near dawn.

Russell's next order of business was to assign a few of the vampires in his retinue, along with his best Were trackers, to begin searching for Bill Compton. Finding him would likely mean finding the telepath and Miss Thornton as well. Sadly, Franklin Mott, Russell's best tracker, had not recuperated yet, but Russell didn't imagine that Bill Compton would be much of a challenge to track down.

The king opted to stay in the basement of Fangtasia for the day and was glad to find it spotless; apparently, Northman's child had completed her assigned task while he was gone. Russell made a mental note to compliment the vampiress on her efficiency. Perhaps, she might even be qualified to run Area 5—now that Eric was to be shifted to Area 1. However, Russell truly did have a hankering for a Fangtasia in his own area, and Northman's progeny would be the most qualified to see to that.

Russell gave his Were guards some instructions, but the king was not too worried about security. The basement of Fangtasia had been reinforced like a bunker, and the king had examined the space very carefully to ensure that it was safe.

Fifty minutes before sunrise, however, Russell got a big surprise—in the form of Bill Compton.

Russell had just been checking in with his trackers _about_ Compton when the Civil War veteran barged into Fangtasia, demanding to see Eric. Of course, he'd not expected to find Russell there instead.

The first thing that Russell did was to secure the younger vampire with silver and gag him in order to shut up his wailing about Eric and what a bastard he was. Compton was also blathering on about his need to "rescue" Sookie, whom he had the annoying habit of calling _Sookeh_. Russell had lived in the South longer than Bill had been in existence, and he'd found no accent that justified that mispronunciation.

A quick call to Talbot confirmed that the Viking had not yet arrived at the mansion, but that was not surprising, given the rate at which Eric had been flying. By Russell's calculation, Eric would arrive no earlier than twenty eight minutes before sunrise, and it was still fifteen minutes until then. The king asked his consort to call him as soon as the Viking arrived.

Russell let Bill stew for a few more minutes before making him an offer. "I will take the gag out, Mr. Compton, but if you continue with your incoherent raving, then I will replace it with a silver one. And trust me. That will be much more unpleasant for you."

Bill cringed and stopped trying to pull against his silver chains.

"Now. Will you be a good little boy and answer my questions? Or should you stay in silver all day and _then_ answer them for me at nightfall? Make your decision now, Bill, for the sunrise is coming in forty minutes."

The younger vampire looked toward the door of Fangtasia and then looked back at Russell with defeat in his eyes. He nodded in affirmation.

"Wonderful!" Russell exclaimed as he took the gag from Bill's mouth.

"King Edgington, please. You _have_ to let me go before Eric harms her!" Bill cried.

Russell's fangs popped down a millisecond before he backhanded Bill. The chair securely holding the younger vampire flew across the room with Bill still attached to it.

At a leisurely pace, Russell walked over and bent down until his face was inches from Compton's. "I ask and you answer," the king seethed. "Other comments from you will not be tolerated! Understand?"

"Yes," Bill answered immediately. The wild look in his eyes—the look of desperation to find Sookie—had been replaced with terror as Russell's power literally radiated around him.

"Do not forget yourself again," Russell warned as he righted Bill's chair.

Not able to look into the almost-black orbs of the three-thousand-year-old vampire in front of him, Bill lowered his eyes and spoke in a stuttering voice. "I understand, your majesty."

Immediately, Russell reestablished his previous casual posture and his fangs were put away. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed as he brought a chair toward the one Bill was chained to and then turned it around so that he was sitting in it backwards. He rested his arms over its back and enjoyed the look of intense fear on Compton's face for a few moments. It didn't take him long to size up his "opponent" and find him lacking. However, the young vampire was not without promise; he just needed the proper training.

"You know, young William, I enjoyed our horseback ride together the other night very much—despite the fact that you smelled of the Weres you had killed. Tell me—did you enjoy killing them?"

"Your majesty?" Bill asked, obviously confused by the topic.

"I was impressed by your display of strength," Russell continued. "You had been pursued by my Weres for hours, yet you managed to kill several of them." He chuckled, "And you de-eared another. As I said, it was a notable battle on your part. I could see that—despite your young age—you were tenacious and highly-motivated."

"Thank you, your majesty," Bill said raising his eyes a little.

Russell smiled. Indeed, Bill had demonstrated what the king would call 'scrappiness.'

"As I said," Russell continued casually as if Bill were not chained in silver, "our ride was enjoyable to me. You had a good seat on the horse, and such ease and grace is difficult to find these days."

Bill's expression continued to show his confusion over the subject matter, but he was not foolish enough to question Russell again. Instead, he spoke on the topic that Russell had raised. "In my time, your majesty, a gentleman had to ride."

"Yes," Russell agreed, "however, not everyone rode _well_." Russell studied the younger vampire carefully for a few moments. "You think of the time of your humanity as 'your' time, young William? Don't you believe that a vampire is a being of _all_ times?"

"I never wanted to be vampire, your majesty," Bill said quietly.

"Ah. Yes," Russell responded. "I might have guessed that about you, especially with Lorena as your maker."

Bill cringed a little, and his eyes took on sadness at his maker's loss. He had hated Lorena, yet he had loved his maker too.

Russell smiled paternalistically at the younger vampire's ambivalent reaction. "I both loved and hated my maker as well," he smiled, "that is, before I killed him."

Bill looked up at Russell with surprise. It was extremely uncommon for a vampire to have the strength or the capability to kill his or her own maker.

The king shrugged and continued with his previous track. "Don't get me wrong. I did enjoy Lorena's company—up to a certain degree. She made a good third at dinner! She and Talbot could talk about fashion and interior decorating and whatnot. It was a relief to have him entertained. Of course, I am a great believer that all this mainstreaming nonsense is only degrading our species, and it is always lovely to have like-minded individuals around me. Do you not agree?"

Bill looked up at Russell with a touch of defiance in his eyes. "I am _not_ like-minded in that way, your majesty," he said stiffly, though respectfully.

"Yes," Russell smiled. "I believe that even I might be tempted to mainstream if I had a part-fairy as my primary food source."

"Fairy, your majesty?" Bill stammered, opting to try for ignorance.

Russell's eyes darkened and Bill shrank into his chair with fear. "Do not play dumb, William. I saw your file. It really was quite the interesting read; plus, my new wife confirmed everything to me—thanks to a little persuasion from your sheriff."

"I—I," Bill began.

"_Never_ lie to me, William," Russell said coldly. "I simply cannot abide a liar. And at my age, I do not have to."

The threat in Russell's words and tone was unmistakable. Bill nodded and then spoke meekly. "About Sookie, your majesty."

"Ah yes. Let us talk about the lovely Miss Stackhouse," Russell agreed.

"Your majesty, Eric is going to . . . ," Bill started.

"Remember,_ I_ am the one asking questions, William," Russell said with the deadly edge back in his voice.

Bill cowered and nodded in affirmation.

"Good," Russell said. "Now—do you know where Sookie is right now?"

"No," Bill answered.

"But you have a blood tie with her?"

"Yes, but it is," he paused, "_confused_ right now."

"I am surprised you are not with your Sookie even now. Didn't she perform a daring rescue of you just this very morning?" Russell asked somewhat playfully.

"Yes she did," Bill responded.

"And _she_ was the one who killed Lorena?" Russell asked, clearly impressed with the feisty telepath.

"Yes," Bill answering, looking almost tortured. "I was holding Lorena down with silver, and my maker," he paused, "welcomed death when I rejected her. But it was Sookie who staked her."

Russell smiled. "A love triangle." He clapped his hands gleefully. "How wonderful! A good love triangle makes life feel so," he stopped for a moment, looking for the right word, "_renewed_!"

Bill shook his head sadly. "Lorena would have killed Sookie."

"So you chose your mostly-human beloved over your maker?"

"Yes," Bill answered, though his eyes conveyed his inner torment.

"And your Sookie risked her life to come for you and to save you?"

"Yes."

"What a lovely little fairy tale," Russell commented with a mixture of sarcasm and sincerity that would have been impossible for almost anyone else to achieve. "But how did our knight in shining armor get separated from his lovely fairy?" he asked.

Bill shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I was weakened from my ordeal. Near death."

"Did your fairy and her confederates bury you in the ground and then leave you?" Russell asked with intrigue in his voice.

"No," Bill said, his face a picture of excruciating pain. "We made our escape in a truck or van of some kind. I think it belonged to a Were named Herveaux. Sookie and I were alone in the back, and I was gravely injured—dead for the day. But she tried to give me her blood, and I . . . ." He stopped as red tears began to streak down his face.

"You did what vampires do," Russell finished with a smirk on his face. "You survived."

Bill nodded his head sorrowfully. "I could have killed her—the woman I love. I could have killed her."

"But you didn't," Russell commented, grateful that the telepath was still among the living. "It must have taken remarkable control to stop yourself. You must really love her."

Bill cried out in despair. "I did not stop. I could not stop myself! Tara and the wolf opened the van door. I was," he wept, "not even aware of what I was doing until they interrupted. And I was about to," he paused, "take her—against her will."

Russell's lips turned up into a slight smile, though he kept his gleeful expression toned down and spoke to the young vampire compassionately. "Oh Bill. How horrible for you! What happened? Did you save your love? Did you give her your blood? Did you turn her?" he finished almost sinisterly.

Bill shook his head. "No," he said bitterly. "Tara would not let me see to Sookeh! Still weakened, I was kicked out of the van and then the wolf drove off without me."

"Why did you not just follow, Miss Stackhouse? I have a feeling that you took enough of her blood to be healed adequately," Russell said with glee in his eyes. In truth, the younger vampire's guilt was making the king's cock hard. In fact, if sunrise were not approaching, Russell might have attempted to seduce Bill before the day came.

"I could not," Bill said. "I began to burn not long after they threw me from the van. I had to dig a resting place for myself and wait for night."

"So this episode didn't happen at night?" Russell asked with a menacing smile.

"No—Sookie tried to heal me during the day, your majesty."

"So it is true?" Russell asked with wonder. "Fairy blood really allows a vampire safety in the sun for a time!"

* * *

**A/N: Well—I hope that you are enjoying seeing what Russell's been up to. Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments and reviews for the previous chapter! I'm so glad that so many people are enjoying this story! I'm enjoying writing it too, so it's great to see so many of you liking it too!**

**Again, I'm not sure if I'll get another chapter out this week, but I'll try. Thanks for your patience.**

**Next up: Just how much will Bill tell Russell? And what will that mean for Sookie and Eric's escape plans?**

**Until then,**

**Kat**

**P.S. Don't forget-visuals available on my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	12. Chapter 12: The Minion

**Chapter 12: The Minion **

_ "So it is true?" Russell asked with wonder. "Fairy blood really allows a vampire safety in the sun for a time!"_

"Only for a short while," Bill admitted. "Even after all the blood that I had taken from her, I was afforded only five minutes or so."

"Five minutes in the sun," Russell said wistfully. "Remarkable!"

"Five minutes that could have killed Sookie," Bill returned sorrowfully.

"What about when you rose tonight?" Russell asked.

"By the time I had dug a resting place of suitable depth, the sun was already burning into me, so I did not rise right at nightfall. When I did awaken, it was already after 1:00 a.m., and I had to find food before I went to Sookie."

Russell's smirk was back because of the renewed guilt he felt from the vampire in front of him. "And did you find a suitable," he paused, "meal?"

Bill nodded. "Yes. I found a husband and wife camping a few miles from my resting place. I . . . ." He stopped as more tears fell from his eyes.

"You _had_ to feed in order to replenish your strength and to heal," Russell said comfortingly. "Any vampire would have done the same. Tell me, Bill. Did you also partake of the _flesh_ while you fed?" he asked sadistically.

Bill nodded. "I was so starved. I just—I could not help myself," he muttered contritely, as if he were confessing to a priest.

"Of course you couldn't. You _had_ to see to your urges. It wouldn't have done anyone any good for you to find Miss Stackhouse while you were still starved and injured," Russell said reassuringly. "You may have hurt her again, and I know that would have killed you," he added, somehow managing to keep his sarcasm at bay.

Bill sniffled and looked up at Russell almost hopefully. "Yes—that's right. And I _had_ to get to Sookie," he said desperately. "She was injured and needed me. I could feel that she was extremely weak through our blood tie."

"Did you take care of the corpses you left behind?" Russell asked in a soft, reassuring tone. "It wouldn't do to have them found."

Bill shook his head. "No," he whispered. "I could think only of getting to Sookie, and she was still quite far from me. I stole the couple's car and drove to her location. And then I drove it here."

"I see," Russell said. "Where did you leave the couple, William?"

"About five miles north of Monroe. Off of Highway 2," the young vampire said, sounding defeated.

Russell signaled for one of his Weres.

"Your majesty?" the Were asked respectfully.

"There has been a camping accident off of Highway 2, five miles north of Monroe." He looked at Bill. "Did you leave them at a campsite?"

The younger vampire shook his head. "No. Not at an official one. There's a road called Rock Cliff Road. It ends at a little stream. That is where they are."

"Take care of it," Russell ordered his Were. And see to the car Compton drove here."

The Were nodded and quickly went to fulfill his king's orders.

"What happened after you fed?" Russell picked up his questioning. "Did you find your fairy?"

Bill nodded. "Yes. In a hospital in Rustin. But Northman was already there," he said bitterly. "_He_ took Sookie away; that's why I _must_ find her."

Russell's first inclination after hearing Bill's words was to celebrate. Northman must have gained some kind of information about Miss Stackhouse's location even as he was flying to Mississippi! Thus, the fact that Talbot had not yet called him to let him know that Eric had arrived at the Jackson mansion was immediately explained.

"Eric forced Sookie to take his blood before I could get to her," Bill said bitterly as more tears fell from his eyes. "I tried to stop him—to fight him—but he had Sookie, and I feared that he would harm her. I would have killed him otherwise," Bill added coldly.

Russell held in his smile. There was no way that Bill would have stood a chance if the Viking had truly wanted his final death.

"So that is why your blood tie with Miss Stackhouse is now 'confused,'" Russell observed. "Indeed, if Miss Stackhouse were given a substantial amount of the Norseman's blood, that _would_ affect your tie with her, especially if Eric actively compelled his blood to hinder yours."

"Is that possible?" Bill asked with surprise.

"Ah—young ones," Russell said, patronizingly. "You have no idea what the blood can accomplish." The king smiled almost kindly. "Do not fear, young William. I can teach you many things, and if you stay alive, you will become able to do them all—in time."

"So—uh—I cannot track Sookie because Eric's blood is blocking me from doing so?" Bill asked. "I thought for a while that they were headed east, but then they seemed to disappear, so I came here. I can still feel that she is alive, but I cannot tell where she is."

"Northman's blood _would_ make tracking Miss Stackhouse difficult for you," Russell mused, "especially if he knew how to use it. However, do not fear, from what you have said, it is clear that Eric is on his way to Mississippi with your fairy. And he knows better than to let harm come to her. If you cooperate, I see no reason why you cannot have a joyful reunion with Miss Stackhouse now that Lorena is no more."

The king smiled to himself. Indeed, things were working out very well. Northman had secured the telepath, and because she'd taken his blood, the Viking could now track her, so if she escaped again, she would be much easier to secure, given Eric's age and strength. Of course, Russell had planned to force Sookie to take some of his own blood so that he could keep track her himself, but having Northman be able to trail the young telepath was an even more satisfactory arrangement.

This way, Russell could avoid all the nasty side effects of allowing a human to have his blood. Being forced to feel a human's ever-shifting emotions was a pain in the ass. Yes—the Viking and William, whom Russell intended to mold into a trusted minion, would be more than adequate trackers if the telepath escaped again. And if Bill tried to facilitate such an escape, then Russell would let the Viking kill him. After all, the animosity between the two of them was apparent.

No. Russell didn't mind not having to give Sookie Stackhouse his blood at all!

What Russell _did_ mind was the fact that Eric had not contacted him to let him know that he had found Miss Stackhouse. However, within milliseconds, the king had run through several scenarios to explain that oversight. Perhaps, Eric was flying Miss Stackhouse to the Mississippi mansion or another safe location, and—because of the short time before dawn—had not had the time to call. Perhaps, Miss Stackhouse's condition had worsened, and Eric had needed to seek medical assistance or even turn the woman. Perhaps, the Viking's cell phone had been lost during his scuffle with Compton.

Even as Russell's supple mind ran through all of these plausible explanations, however, that nagging suspicion he had about Northman resurfaced. He replayed Northman's actions regarding the telepath in his head. There was Eric's protective posturing when Lorena threatened the girl. There was the forced smile on the Viking's lips when Russell expelled him for the room so that he could talk to Sookie about the file. But those things could be explained. Miss Stackhouse had been an asset to Northman and lived in Area 5, after all. So Eric wouldn't have wanted Lorena to harm her. Plus, Russell had interrupted a heated argument between the telepath and the Viking. Her eyes had been wet with tears that Eric must have caused.

Given those facts, Russell had not been suspicious of the interactions he'd witnessed between Eric and Sookie—but now, he wondered.

"So Eric took Sookie on your behalf?" Bill asked, interrupting Russell's thoughts.

Russell hesitated a moment but then nodded. "Yes."

"So he used his blood in Sookie to track her down at the hospital?" Bill asked. "I wouldn't have thought that he had enough blood in her to do that. I barely found her. But he _is_ quite old," the Civil War veteran mused.

The elder vampire's blood grew even colder than usual. "What do you mean? Eric had blood inside of Miss Stackhouse _before_ tonight?" Russell's anger bubbled to the surface.

Bill once more shrank back in fear. "Yes," he whispered.

"Explain!" Russell ordered. "Now!"

Afraid to be ripped limb from limb, Bill talked quickly. "It was when we were in Dallas several weeks ago. A bomb went off in Godric's home, and Eric tricked Sookie into sucking some silver from his body. By the time I was able to get to her, she had already swallowed a few drops of his blood."

Russell stood up abruptly and crushed the chair he had been sitting on with his bare hands as if he were crumpling a piece of paper.

When the king spoke again, his voice was disturbingly low in volume and tone. "So you are telling me that Northman has had his blood in Miss Stackhouse the whole time I have known him?"

Bill nodded.

Russell thought for a moment. It was possible that Eric wasn't sure he could track the fairy if she had so little of his blood. Perhaps, during his flight, the Viking's blood had "found" her because of proximity. After all, his path would have caused him to fly almost directly over Ruston. But why wouldn't Eric have told his king—a king to whom he outwardly showed so much loyalty—about the telepath having his blood.

Russell scanned all of his doubts and all of his thoughts related to Eric Northman, and then suddenly the spark of suspicion became a brightly burning fire. It was the fire of a hearth—a Viking hearth.

As if in a time machine, Russell closed his eyes and was transported into a long-ago memory. He'd seen the young Viking man, who was probably fewer than twenty winters old, cradling his dead mother. The young man was dirty from his fight and confused by the appearance of a naked man where there had once been a wolf. Russell could smell the young man's tears and his fear. Both scents were alluring.

Yet Russell enjoyed the thought of the young man's anguish much more than he relished the thought of killing him that night. It had always been Russell's practice to leave behind a single survivor in a family. He'd done it hundreds of times; he relished in the survivor's anguish and in the thought of his or her _continued_ suffering at his hands. Sometimes he took the attractive survivors with him—to feed off of both their distress and their blood for days on end, but more often than not, he would leave them behind, especially when their blood was not particularly noteworthy.

Despite his fear, the young Viking's blood had smelled ordinary, so Russell had given him a warning that he should not follow. He figured that he'd test the young man's metal. If the Viking chased after Russell into the night, he would prove his foolishness, as well as demonstrate a thoughtless kind of bravery. If that had happened, Russell would have drained the young man and put him out of his misery—after fucking him senseless, of course. But the Viking did not follow. He proved his instinct for self-preservation, though Russell intuited that the young man would see his choice not to pursue his enemy as an act of cowardice. The vampire had relished in that idea; he had imagined the young Viking punishing himself for his inaction for much longer than Russell could have tortured him.

Russell walked away from Bill and over to Fangtasia's bar. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface and admired its quality.

"Cherry wood," he observed. "Beautiful."

In a movement that Bill barely perceived, the ancient vampire raised his fists and brought them down with force, easily breaking the solid wood bar in two.

"That felt good," Russell mused to himself before bringing his fists down again, once more chopping into the wood. He closed his eyes tightly and let the memory of the young Viking—barely a man—fill his mind fully. The light from the fire in the lodge had been dim, but Russell had seen the young man's eyes clearly. They had been a blue storm of mixed emotions, with the chief of them being fear—the _only_ emotion that Russell had failed to see in the eyes of the sheriff of Area 5.

The king smiled. Clearly, Eric Northman had learned to master that which had stifled him before. But Russell planned to see that fear again―many, _many_ times―before he allowed the Viking to meet his final death. By then there would be nothing left but the fear in those cerulean eyes.

Russell turned around slowly and saw that the young vampire before him already had a healthy dose of fear. It was as it _should_ be. Russell smiled at the youngling.

"You hate Eric Northman?" Russell asked.

"Yes," Bill replied somewhat cautiously.

"And he stole away your fairy?"

"Yes," Bill repeated, but this time with spite in his tone.

"Do you believe that he will keep her?"

"He has a fascination with her," Bill responded stiffly. "He will try to manipulate her into staying with him. He will," Bill paused, "take advantage of her innocence."

Russell nodded. "Then—I will make a bargain with you, young William."

Bill looked at Russell with curiosity.

"I am always in need of able vampires, and you have caught my eye," the king said, as he sized up Bill once more. "If I promise to allow you and Miss Stackhouse to continue your association under my roof, will you help me to get her back by using your blood tie with her?"

"You won't harm her?" Bill asked hesitantly.

"She will be an asset to me—as will you."

"But her blood?" Bill asked.

"I will not deny that I intend to use Miss Stackhouse's blood to allow me to see the sunrise on occasion, but I would do her no real harm," Russell promised. "Other than that, her blood will be her own. And," he paused, "_yours_, of course."

"What about Sophie-Anne?" Bill asked.

"My _wife_ will not be a problem," the king stated. "Louisiana is mine now."

"You and Sophie-Anne married?"

"Yes. The magister himself performed the ceremony. Your queen is merely a figurehead now. And—rest assured—I will _not_ allow her to harm your fairy."

Bill replied slowly. "So Sookie and I can live in your mansion—as a couple?"

The king nodded. "Yes. And I will take you both to Vermont myself. You may marry and live in my mansion—under my protection, of course. In fact, I promise not even to take Miss Stackhouse's blood from her directly. I will have only a pint or so drawn from her each week; then I will store it until I wish to gorge in the light of the sun." He smiled. "So you see? No harm need come to your Sookie at all. And—all I ask for in return—is that she use her telepathy to aid me. And—even with that—I will offer her an impressive salary and a reasonable schedule."

Bill considered Russell's words for a few moments. In turn, the king studied the younger vampire carefully and celebrated internally the moment he saw Bill's eyes shift slightly. In that fraction of a second, the king knew that he had a new minion.

"If you allow Sookie the illusion of freedom," Bill began, "if you let her visit her friends and family in Bon Temps on occasion and let her receive visits from them, and if you give her a written contract of some kind, I believe that she would accept her station by your side without struggle, your majesty. Sophie-Anne was unwilling to do these things. She wanted to have Sookie for her blood slave, as well as for her telepathy."

Russell scoffed. "Sophie-Anne is an infant—a spoiled little brat without true vision. I am neither of these things. Your Sookie is a rare find—and should be treated as a treasured asset! And—you too—have great potential, William. You will find that I _greatly_ reward those in my service, and that is exactly what I intend to do for you and your mate, William."

"My mate?" Bill asked longingly.

"Yes," the king responded, "for that is how I view Miss Stackhouse. She will be yours. She _is_ yours. You will both work for me at my residence, and you will both be treated extremely well. And—to prove my goodwill—I will follow your invaluable advice. Your fairy—your wife—_will_ have her illusion of freedom and independence. In fact, I shall even have a separate bungalow constructed for you and her on my property. She will be allowed guests, she will be free to visit her hometown for vacations, and you and she may both come and go from the property as you please when you are not working. Would that be acceptable?"

Bill bit his bottom lip, even as his eyes lit up at the prospect of being in service to a worthy monarch. "Yes," he said, looking at Russell with a mixture of admiration and determination. "I will do all that I can to find Sookie for you."

"For _us_, dear William," Russell smiled. "I hope that you will consider this an arrangement that will benefit _you_ as well," the king added, seductively. "I have _much_ that I could teach a vampire of your inherent quality."

Russell motioned for one of his Weres to remove the younger vampire's silver chains.

"You honor me with your words and confidence in me," Bill said with a little bow once the chains were off of him.

"One must leave a legacy, young William." Russell chuckled. "Of course, I intend to continue living in the midst of mine."

"Of course," Bill responded with a smile.

"Shall we?" Russell asked, gesturing toward the basement. The sun would rise in only a few minutes, and Russell could tell that Bill was starting to feel the pull, especially now that the pain of the silver was gone. "You should have a couple of TrueBloods before you rest, and Dane here will get you a donor for first thing tonight." Russell gave his new Were alpha a nod.

"Thank you, your majesty," Bill said deferentially as Russell went on the other side of the destroyed bar to get two TrueBloods.

"I'm afraid the microwave was ruined in my moment of rage," Russell said with a sheepish grin.

"That is fine," Bill said, as Russell handed him the first of the TrueBloods. Once in the basement, Russell led them to a door, behind which was a bedroom. A large bed with opulent black linens dominated the room. A gigantic shower with a glass door and many different nozzles was the only other item in the space.

"I'm afraid these are the only accommodations I can offer. You do not mind sharing a resting place with your king—do you, William?" Russell asked.

"Not at all, your majesty," Bill answered as he watched the elder vampire take off his jacket and his shoes and make himself comfortable on the side of the bed closest to the wall.

"Do latch the door—will you?" Russell asked a nervous-looking Bill.

The younger vampire quickly obeyed. "Your majesty?" Bill said after drinking down the rest of the first bottle of blood and beginning the second one.

"Yes?" Russell asked in a tone that was full of patience and ease.

"I know how to—uh—I know how to weave dreams," Bill stammered a little.

"But you are so young," Russell responded with surprise as he sat up straighter on the bed.

"That skill and my powerful glamouring ability are my vampire gifts," Bill responded, his tone conveying sadness.

"And you have _developed_ your dream-weaving gift?" Russell asked with curiosity.

Bill nodded, even as shame oozed off of him in waves. "Lorena _enjoyed_ commanding me to give humans my blood. Then she would force me to hone my skill." He paused and wiped away a fresh tear from the tracks of dried blood already on his face. "Many humans were driven to their deaths because of the things my maker made me do to them with woven dreams."

Russell hid his smile. Lorena always did relish her little games. The king had tinkered with dream-weaving around a thousand years before, but—after perfecting the skill—it became boring for him, just like most everything else did in a three-thousand-year life.

"Tell me, young William," Russell asked, "have you ever woven a dream for Miss Stackhouse?"

Bill nodded and looked down as another tear slipped from his eye. "Sookie's grandmother had been murdered, and she was in great pain. The day of Adele Stackhouse's funeral, I sent a dream." The younger vampire shook his head regretfully. "I did it on impulse," he added quickly. "I didn't even know if Sookie would sleep that day, but she must have."

"What did your dream compel her to do?" Russell asked, his tone almost snake-like.

He sighed. "I wanted to take her mind off of her grief, so I sent her lust and the desire to come to me after nightfall. When I awoke, I regretted sending the dream, but Sookie was already running to me by then. She had prepared herself for me," he added, closing his eyes and unconsciously licking his lips. "She was dressed in a white nightgown—like a bride. _My_ bride. And she was a virgin then. I tried to resist the urge to take her, but I could not."

Russell once more held in his grin and affected a concerned expression. "Surely that was a _gift_ to Miss Stackhouse. As you said, you were _only_ trying to alleviate her grief."

"Yes. But she gave me her virginity that night," Bill said quietly.

Russell had to use Herculean effort to maintain a straight face. "A gift for a gift," he said comfortingly.

"You truly believe that?" Bill asked hopefully.

"Of course," Russell replied sincerely. "You were comforting her the best way you knew how."

"Yes," Bill said, his relief clear. "And I did _not_ weave any other dreams for her. I sent her others in the usual ways, but that was the only time I used my dream-weaving, and it _was_ for her."

"And for the best," Russell added. He was more than willing to make Bill feel better if it led to the conclusion for which he was now hoping. "You were just trying to protect your mate from pain—just as you are trying to protect her from Northman now."

"Yes," Bill said with desperation in his eyes. "I would do _anything_ to get Sookie away from Eric and to bring her to safety."

"I know you would, William. So would I," Russell assured. "But dream-weaving can be a dangerous business," the king said hesitantly, baiting the hook for Bill to bite.

"I know," the younger vampire said, looking quite tortured.

"_But_," Russell paused dramatically, "the Norseman is even _more_ dangerous to your mate." The king sighed and shook his head as if he were as conflicted as Bill.

"Sookie has to be gotten away from Eric. He is manipulating her," Bill replied with sudden fervor.

"You _could_ help her," Russell observed in a rational tone. "You helped her before when you sent her a dream. And this time, she needs your help even more, for she is in grave danger."

Bill nodded.

"_Fear_ would be the easiest way to draw her to you," Russell mused thoughtfully. "After all, she loves you. She is devoted to you. If she thought you were in mortal danger, she _would_ come to you."

"Do you think so? What if Eric has already corrupted her feelings?"

Russell shook his head sadly. "He may have, but if she sleeps during the day, Northman will be powerless to stop her from escaping. Her dream will compel her to do what it best for _her_. And, after she is with us, we can show her Eric's duplicity, and she can once more take her _rightful_ place by your side."

Bill nodded as resolution settled over his features. He quickly finished his blood, took off his shoes, and moved to the bed.

Russell spoke to Bill with concern in his tone. "You are still weak from the silver, young William. You should take a bit of _my_ blood. It will help you to send a stronger dream."

"You would give me your blood?" Bill asked with awe in his voice.

"I care for you William. And, though it may not have looked like it, I care for your Miss Stackhouse too." He smiled. "Allow me to give you this gift to make up for the fact that I had to silver you earlier." Russell's voice grew more and more seductive as he continued, "Do it for Sookie—for your future wife."

Bill nodded. "I will. Thank you."

Russell smiled and brought his wrist to his mouth. He looked forward to having his blood inside of Bill. It would help him to keep tabs on his young pupil for a few days—though, unfortunately, even his ancient blood could not be used to control another vampire.

Luckily, Compton was relatively easy to manipulate even without blood. Russell had already found out that he could play on the younger vampire's feelings of guilt in order to get him to do almost anything. All Russell had to do was act as Bill's confessor and then offer the youngling absolution.

Energized and aroused by the strength of Russell's blood, Bill's eyes brightened. The king leaned down and placed a soft, chaste kiss onto Bill's lips.

"Send your dream, young William. And all will be well by tonight," Russell said reassuringly—coaxingly.

Immediately, Bill complied. He closed his eyes, and Russell could feel the magic emanating from the younger vampire's body. The king was impressed by the amount of effort and force Bill put into the dream, but—then again, Russell thought to himself—Compton had been trained by Lorena. Moreover, the younger vampire was obviously obsessed with the Stackhouse girl. Otherwise, why would he send someone he _supposedly_ loved a woven dream? Such dreams were wrought with perils that the vampire could not foresee, and many a human had been driven insane or had died because of them.

The king grinned as Bill's eyes remained closed. If Sookie slept, the dream would take hold of her. Hyped up on fear that would only expand upon her waking, Sookie could literally kill herself trying to get to Bill. Indeed, dream-weaving was a risky business, but Russell was willing to risk the telepath's life so that Northman couldn't use her to his advantage.

The dream sent, an exhausted Bill immediately fell back onto the bed, dead for the day. Russell had to hand it to William Compton. He'd _certainly_ held nothing back as he'd sent the dream.

Russell quickly called his Alpha Were, Dane, to let him know that the telepath might come searching for Compton. He also told Dane to inform the Weres watching Compton's home that the telepath might head there. In order to limit the potential that Sookie would hurt herself because of the dream, he gave instructions that his people should restrain and heavily tranquilize Sookie if she showed up. She would likely do anything to get to Bill if she was in the state of panic that Russell hoped the dream would instill inside of her. Hell, if she found out Bill's precise location, she would literally try to claw through the steel door behind which he and Bill were now housed—_unless_ she were physically restrained from doing so.

The trap set, Russell studied William Compton. The young vampire had already proven useful—and he held hidden talents that would benefit the king. Indeed, he had not been lying when he said that he found the youngling promising. Missing Talbot, Russell curled young William into his body right before letting the sun pull him to death.

* * *

**A/N: Hello all! So I procrastinated and hurried this chapter along as a birthday gift for Kleannhouse, who is my sometimes beta (She's done awesome work for the "Gift Horse" series). So—happy 51****st****, babe (and I mean that "babe" in a non-Quinn-like way). **

**The next chapter isn't quite as long and I don't teach tomorrow (it's President's Day in the States), so there is a possibility (though a slight one) that you will get one more chapter this week. But no breath holding!**

**If you want to learn more about vampire blood, dreams, etc., I have a page started on my WordPress site called "Vampire Blood: 101." It's taught by Professor Northman, who has a very—um—hands-on approach to teaching (at least in my vivid imagination). ;) Check it out if you are interested. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**

**Until next time!**

**Kat **


	13. Chapter 13: Dreamer of the Day

**Chapter 13: Dreamer of the Day**

"_**All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."—T. E. Lawrence**_

Sookie looked down at the directions Eric had given her one last time and made the final turn toward her destination. She said a little prayer of thanksgiving that she was so close.

It wasn't just that she was anxious about being out in the open either. No—her major concern at that moment was finding a bathroom. She looked down at the two empty bottles of water and cursed them both.

She'd decided to drive straight from Vicksburg to Slidell since the trip was only a little over three hours. And she'd certainly not needed to stop for gas. Who knew that a vamp-mobile would be a hybrid? Of course, Eric's was! He'd called it practical. She found herself smiling as she lay her hand on the passenger seat before giving it a pat.

"You're nothing if not practical, Mr. Northman," she said with a little chuckle.

From the outside, the car looked like a normal Toyota Prius. However, there was currently a 6'4" vampire stretched out and dead for the day. In fact, his face was probably right below her hand.

Sookie marveled at the ingenuity of Eric's car and the resting place within it. Unless someone looked very closely, Eric's enclosure wouldn't be noticed. The light-tight area began under the front seat on the passenger's side. That seat was actually hollowed out, but that wasn't really perceptible. Eric's space ran down the whole length of the car—under the back seat and then to the end of the hatchback. The car sat slightly higher than the norm, but that wasn't really obvious either. The only part that was tricky was the space between the front and back seats, which would usually have been open for foot room, but whoever had designed the space made it look like a box was on the floorboard on "Eric's side" of the car. And it looked as if there was luggage in the hatchback. All-in-all, it just seemed like a normal car.

Sookie sighed with relief as she found the address she was looking for and pushed the button of the garage door opener. Not used to parking in a garage, Sookie pulled in slowly, despite her anxious bladder. Her worst fear had been wrecking and finally killing the un-dead vampire next to her in the car, but Eric had assured her that even a launched missile would have a difficult time penetrating his enclosure. Still, she proceeded carefully. She'd tempted enough fate during the last several months, and she wasn't anxious to continue in that pattern.

As soon as Sookie parked, she pushed the garage door opener again and exited the car quickly. She danced from foot to foot as she waited for the garage door to completely close. Then she entered the code Eric had written down for her and dashed into the house. The garage door led to a kitchen, and—thankfully—there was a half-bath nearby.

* * *

Her human needs seen to, Sookie felt a hundred percent better. She walked back to the garage and stared at the car for a little while before going back inside the house. It wasn't as if Eric would miss her if she wasn't there.

Sookie sighed. Eric Northman was such an enigma to her. But, when it all came down to it, there was something about him that she trusted—despite the silver-sucking trick he pulled in Dallas. In fact, she trusted him a heck of a lot more than Bill at this point.

She couldn't help but to think that she'd made the best choice for herself—as well as for her family and friends. If Eric was afraid of Russell, then the people she cared about wouldn't stand a chance. It seemed clear that Russell would be watching everyone she cared about, but as long as she didn't contact them, the Mississippi and Louisiana king could watch all he wanted. Sookie sighed. That made _her_ the biggest threat to her friends and family. Being with them would put them in more danger—just as she feared her presence would somehow endanger the vampire in the garage.

She sighed again. In truth, that had been one of the main reasons why she'd contemplated going off on her own. Yes—she was telepathic and might be able to know that danger was coming during the daytime. But what could she really do about any danger? She'd learned the hard way that the light in her hands sputtered out after a blast or two. She feared that Eric would count on her; she feared that she would let him down.

Sookie closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. Intentional or not, she seemed to have let down just about everyone in her life. She just prayed that she'd not endangered those she cared about the most when she left them at the hospital. Even before she'd decided to go with Eric, she'd thought about the likelihood that Bill would find her brother, Lafayette, Tara, and Alcide. But she'd counted on three things as she'd made her decision to flee.

First, she'd counted on the fact that Bill truly was acting irrationally. The moment she'd removed the second IV and he'd smelled her blood, his eyes had become dilated, and they'd stayed that way. And he'd certainly been trying to manipulate her feelings. Hopefully, that desperate impulse to get her had continued after she and Eric flew away. If it had, then Bill would have immediately left the hospital to try to pursue them; he wouldn't have taken the time to stop and question her friends and her brother.

Second, she'd been counting on her loved ones' ignorance. Even if Bill had questioned them, they knew nothing that could endanger themselves or Eric. All they knew was that Eric had told her about Bill's duplicity and had asked to speak with her in private for a few minutes. She knew that at least Alcide and Tara would assume that Eric had taken her from the hospital against her will. Hell—they might even try to help Bill find her! But she didn't think Bill would hurt them. Manipulate? Hell yes. Glamour? Probably. Hurt? No. Sookie had come to realize during her drive that Bill truly believed that he was acting in her best interests, and harming her friends and brother would not fit into the "narrative" that he had created for himself—and for them as a "couple."

Third—frankly—she'd counted on her loved ones following their usual tendancies. If Sookie knew anything about Tara, she knew that following a blow-up such as the one she'd had before she stormed out of Sookie's room, her friend would _not_ be sticking around the hospital. And Sookie also understood Tara's self-preservation instincts. Hearing that Franklin Mott was alive would have spurred Tara to get out of the area. She also knew that the compassionate nature of Lafayette would have likely compelled him to try to talk to Tara before she left the hospital. Sookie just hoped that he'd not come back to her room until Bill was long gone. Sookie was also counting on Alcide's nature. As a Were, Alcide would have been able to smell Bill, and since Jason had been with Alcide, they could have kept themselves out of the vampire's path.

Unless they'd purposely confronted him.

"Please, God," she begged as she squeezed her eyes shut even harder, "just let them all be okay. Please don't let me have hurt them again. I can accept them all hating me for leaving or blaming me for letting myself get taken by Eric. But, please, don't make them have to suffer because of me anymore." She felt a hot tear rolling down her cheek as she continued, "I'm sorry, Gran. I'm sorry that you got killed because I let myself fall in love with someone who was only manipulating me. I should have known that he couldn't truly love me. I'm sorry that Tara's in danger from Franklin Mott because he found her while he was looking for me. I'm sorry that Jason's gonna be followed because of me. They're _all_ in danger because of me," she sobbed as more tears created watery trails down her cheeks.

Sookie shook her head and opened her eyes before roughly pushing her tears away. Honestly, she couldn't understand why Eric would want her with him at all.

"Mom, you were right," she said to the empty kitchen. "I am defective. And it would have been better if I'd never been born," she added, repeating the thoughts that she'd heard from her mother's head so many times when she'd been a child.

Sookie took a deep breath. She knew that self-pity would get her nowhere, and the ten minutes she'd gotten lost in it were already indulgent enough on her part. After all—as her mother always told her when the pain of hearing all the thoughts around her would make Sookie cry—"feeling sorry for oneself was just plain selfish." So Sookie forced her mind to move away from the mistakes that she'd made—the mistake that she _was_.

The ability to do just that had been how she'd survived with her telepathy without going as crazy as the people of Bon Temps already thought she was. Yes—instead of crying over spilt milk, she'd always tried to be useful. She'd striven to help Gran in every way possible after the matriarch had taken her and Jason in. She'd tried to be a good friend and a good waitress. She'd tried to be a good sister.

Now she hoped that she might be able to do something beneficial for Eric. After all, being an "asset" was better than being a "freak" or a "blood slave." She took another deep breath. No matter what had happened in the past, she was determined to help the vampire who was helping her get free of her blood tie with Bill. She was determined not to repeat past mistakes. And she was determined not to hurt anyone else she cared about—even if that meant never seeing them again.

Sookie realized that she could no longer afford to be naïve about the lengths to which a vampire would go in order to control her telepathy. Manipulation and seduction? Check. Coercion and imprisonment? Check. Kidnapping and torturing those she loved to make her comply. Check. Check.

After her discussion with Eric and what she felt Bill trying to do in her blood the night before, Sookie had a lot more questions, but very few illusions. She hoped that Eric would eventually tell her what it was that was so special about her blood and why sparks could fly from her hands, but she wasn't going to hold her breath. If their interactions had taught her anything, it was that Eric had his own timetable, and it was not necessarily the one she would have chosen.

Sookie sighed and looked around the kitchen of what would be her home until she healed from the severing spell. She shivered at the thought of that unknown spell—of being under the influence of a witch's spell at all—but she set those thoughts aside, knowing that the risks were worth it. She had to break the blood tie with Bill; it was her only chance to be free.

Eric had told her not to leave the house, but apparently he'd arranged for what she would need. She shook her head, once more confused by the vampire. What was he? Her friend? Her protector? Her partner in trying to survive? Or maybe he'd prove to be the biggest manipulator of them all—the best liar?

She couldn't be sure about anything at the moment. Her emotions were just too raw.

What she _did_ know was that when Eric arranged for something, he went all out. The kitchen was fully stocked, and since she'd only had a granola bar that morning, she quickly grabbed what she needed to make herself an omelet. There were also potatoes, so she made some hash browns as well. She smiled a little; hash browns was a dish that Gran had always made for her when she was brooding about something. And, to Sookie, it seemed quite appropriate to indulge in comfort food at the moment.

The refrigerator also held several kinds of juices, and Sookie chose the cranberry. She thought briefly about making herself some coffee, but the vampire blood and her thoughts would likely make sleep hard enough to come by as it was, and one thing that Eric _did_ tell her to do before he got into his hidey-hole in the car was to try to get some sleep. He said that it would be a long night and that she should store up as much strength as she could before the severing spell was carried out the next day.

He'd also told her that if she slept during the day, then her dreams of him would likely not be as intense as before, but Sookie wasn't so sure. She'd taken quite a bit of his blood, and even though it was day time, she was well aware of the feelings that dreams about Eric Northman were capable of eliciting in her. After all, she'd had _both_ of her dreams about Eric when it had been daytime, and they'd both been extremely emotional for her. But he had promised not to purposely influence his blood to make her dream. Apparently, however, the blood could have a "mind of its own" sometimes—whatever that meant.

She scoffed out loud.

Of course, Eric could do nothing to stop Bill from trying to make her dream. But, according to Eric, Bill wouldn't be able to send a powerful dream since he would be sleeping. So, if anything, it would be an "echo" of what he'd sent before he went to sleep for the day. She just hoped that Eric's blood inside of her—operating with a "mind of its own"—could counteract Bill's.

Sookie sighed. She was tired of dreaming.

Because of her telepathy, she'd always had trouble sleeping, and she'd always had troubling dreams based on the thoughts of others. Her mother's bitterness, her father's weariness, her brother's resentment, her gran's worry. The matters preying on the minds of the people of Bon Temps. Her uncle's plans for her. Her fears of dying alone—of never finding love.

Yes—it was safe to say that she'd been "over" dreaming even before vampires entered her life and began to manipulate her dreams.

Sookie sighed for what seemed like the millionth time since she'd woken up in the hospital. She didn't really understand everything about the dreams vampires could send, and she hated to be uninformed, but for now, she would do what Eric advised and try to sleep. Or—at the very least—she would lie down and try to rest.

Once she'd washed her dirty dishes, Sookie made her way upstairs to what seemed to be the master bedroom. On the bed were several shopping bags that contained some women's clothing and a few hygiene products. The first bag contained jeans in several sizes, ranging from a 4 to an 8. Putting them up against her body, Sookie figured that the size 6 would fit best and that the 8, though a little roomy, would be good for when she had to spend a lot of hours driving. The 4, however, would likely not even fit over her thighs. She refolded those neatly and put them on the chair before looking in another bag. In it, she found some underwear—modest white bikini panties in a size medium and a couple of bras, also in a modest, though comfortable, style. She grabbed the bra that matched her chest size. There were also socks, T-shirts, and a gray hoodie, as well as sweatpants. She opted for comfort and took the sweatpants and a T-shirt, along with the hygiene products, into the en-suite bathroom.

Feeling a little tired because of her large breakfast/lunch, Sookie took a shower and washed her hair in record time. After brushing her teeth and hair, she made one last pit stop to take care of her human needs and then climbed into the bed, happy to find it soft and warm.

Despite her earlier fears of being kept awake by her swirling thoughts, sleep found her quickly.

* * *

_Sookie shivered as she took in the façade of Fantasia. The bar looked deserted, though it was clearly night time. She was surprised when she saw no one at the door. Usually there was a long line of fangbangers waiting to get inside. And Pam was almost always to be found overseeing that line. Eric's progeny seemed to enjoy cataloging the fangbangers as if they were cattle and scaring them as if they were sheep._

_ Despite the fact that the hair was standing up on the back of her neck, Sookie walked through the red door of Fangtasia. For some reason, she didn't want to go in, but her legs weren't really following her mind's directions at the moment, so in she walked._

_ The interior of the club seemed just as deserted as the exterior as Sookie walked toward the throne as if she were being pulled to it. The eeriness of the scene made her suddenly wish that she was not alone—that the individual who usually sat on the throne would appear. Even though the Viking vampire frustrated and annoyed her much of the time, having him there would have made her feel better—maybe even safer._

_ "So—you believe that I can make you safer?" came a voice from behind her._

_ Sookie whirled around to see Eric there, sitting on a throne that was the mirror image of the one she'd just been looking at. He was dressed in the same clothing he'd been wearing the first night she'd seen him at Fangtasia. She looked down and saw that she was in the dress she'd been wearing that night too. _

_ "Do you really think that you are safer with me?" Eric asked, his voice laced with disbelief._

_ "You said you would—keep me safe," Sookie answered almost breathlessly. His sudden presence had startled and comforted her at the same time, and she was having a hard time reconciling the two emotions._

_ "I do not remember promising such a thing," the Viking said contemplatively. "And—anyway—I don't make promises that are impossible to keep."_

_ "Sookie," came another familiar voice from behind her. The sound of it made her stomach drop, even as her heart began to beat wildly._

_ "Come to me, Sookie," the voice whispered._

_ Afraid to turn around and face the owner of the voice, Sookie kept her eyes fixed on Eric; her own were pleading. "Help me," she gasped._

_ "You cannot trust Eric," the voice said. "Now—come to me!"_

_ Unable to control the movements of her own body, Sookie felt compelled to turn around and face Bill. He was sitting on Eric's throne and dressed about as nonthreateningly as a kindergarten teacher. He wore khaki slacks and a light blue polo shirt. _

_ "I love you, Sookie," Bill said with a smile on his lips. She couldn't tell if the expression was sincere or sinister. Somehow it seemed to be both at the same time._

_ "If you asked it of me, I would kill him," Eric said from behind her. "Other than that, I can be of no help to you, Miss Stackhouse."_

_ "Did you hear him?" Bill said in a smooth, seductive tone. "He is threatening my life. And he will kill me if you don't stop him, darling."_

_ From nowhere, Sookie felt a sudden jolt of fear—panic. And, even in the next second, she felt as if she were drowning in fear. She tried to calm herself with a deep breath, but she found that she could not catch one. _

_ "Please save me, Sookie," Bill said with desperation in his eyes. "If you do not come to me, Russell will kill me!"_

_ Suddenly, Bill's shirt disappeared and silver chains wrapped themselves around his arms and chest, securing him to the throne. His skin sizzled._

_ "Sookie," Bill pleaded, "if you don't come to me, Russell is going to torture me—even worse than Lorena did! Please—I love you. Come to me."_

_ Sookie flashed to the memory of what Bill had looked like after Lorena had finished with him and tried to rush over to him. However, her feet would not move her._

_ "Bill!" Sookie cried out. "I can't get to you!"_

_ "_He_ is stopping you," Bill said, gesturing over her shoulder toward Eric._

_ "Yes I am," confirmed the Viking's voice from behind her. _

_ "Eric, I have to get to Bill!" Sookie screamed. "I have to go to him or he'll die! I'll die!" _

_ Sookie was shaking with her fear now. Her whole body was fighting against whatever power was holding her in place. She _had_ to get to Bill! Everything in her told her she had to free him!_

_ "You will not die, Sookie," Eric said from behind her. "Nor will he die. Think, little one. Think."_

_ Sookie registered Eric's words, but shook her head. She had no idea what Eric could want her to think about! In fact, all she could think about in that moment was saving Bill. She loved him! She loved him so desperately that it physically hurt her. The pain that he was feeling from the silver physically hurt her._

_ "That's it, darling," Bill said. "Fight Eric's hold on you. _He_ is manipulating you. _He_ wants you for himself. Please come to me, Sookie. Save me and we can be happy together. Russell will free me once you have come, and he has promised to let us live together in freedom. We can get married, darling. We can go to Vermont tonight and do what we should have done weeks ago. We will be safe, Sookie. I promise."_

_ "_I_ do not make promises that are impossible to keep," Eric said from behind her, repeating the words he'd used earlier. _

_ Sookie continued to struggle. "Let. Me. Go!" she yelled. "Eric, please, I have to get to Bill! I can save him!"_

_ "I cannot hold you for much longer, Sookie," Eric said quietly from behind her. "As I promised, I did not send you a dream before I fell to my sleep."_

_ "This isn't a dream!" Sookie yelled. "This is Bill's life!"_

_ Eric sighed behind her. "It _is_ a dream, little one."_

_ "If you aren't trying to manipulate me, then why can't I get to Bill?" Sookie asked venomously as she looked at Eric over her shoulder._

_ "My blood is holding you," the Viking said._

_ "You lied to me then!" she yelled._

_ "No," he said calmly. "Think, Sookie. I told you that my blood could have a mind of its own. It is here to try to stop Bill's blood from influencing you, but it cannot hold you for long—not against the strength of what was sent by him."_

_ "I don't believe you! Not about anything!" she bit out as she sank to her knees and turned back toward Bill. _

_ "That's right, darling," Bill said. "Fight him! Show him that our love for each other is stronger than his attempts to manipulate you. Remember how he tricked you into taking his blood in Dallas. He did it again last night. I was coming to save you, Sookie. I love you!"_

_ "Bill," she wheezed, trying to crawl to him now. Her fear seemed like a living being in her body. _

_ "Fight him," Eric said from behind her. _

_ "Yes, fight _him_," Bill responded. "Focus on _our_ love and you will be free of him! Put aside all the lies that Eric has told you about me and come to me. If you don't, Russell will kill me! Sookie," he added in agony, "the silver burns so badly. Please help me."_

_ "What about the file Russell had?" Sookie whispered, though questioning Bill seemed both to cause her physical pain and to ratchet up her fear._

_ "I did not collect the information in that file, Sookie. Eric was lying to you, trying to turn you against me," Bill insisted. "Sookie, it hurts!" he cried out as smoke rose from his body. "Your accusations hurt me!"_

_ "The queen?" Sookie asked._

_ "I do not know what Eric has said to you, but _he_ is a master of lies. He is trying to use his blood inside of you in order to keep you from me, Sookie. Only _you_ can save me, but only if you fight his influence!"_

_ Sookie turned toward Eric. "Bill's right! Why should I believe anything you've told me? Why did I listen to you? Bill loves me! Russell kidnapped him and then Lorena tortured him! And _you_ probably gave Russell that file on me! You had Bill's handwriting copied! You made up that story about the queen! It was all _you_! I hate you!"_

_ "Kill him, Sookie. Kill him, and save me," Bill said venomously._

_ Suddenly, Sookie felt something in her hand. She looked down and saw that it was a stake. The wood was rough against her palm._

_ "If you do this, he will have you, Sookie," Eric said evenly from behind her. "Think, Sookie. Think for yourself!"_

_ "I am thinking for myself," Sookie yelled as she found that she was able to move as long as she was moving toward Eric. _

_ "Don't, Sookie," Eric said. _

_ "I have to!" Sookie yelled as she propelled herself toward Eric._

_ The stake poised a mere inch from his heart, he caught her hand. "Think, Sookie."_

_ "I have to save Bill," she said. "And to do that, I have to kill you."_

_ "What will become of you if you save him?" Eric asked. _

_ "We'll be happy. We'll go back to how things were before."_

_ "There are no paths for you that will lead to the beginning," Eric said enigmatically._

_ "Shut up!" she yelled. "Shut up and let me kill you!"_

_ "Let you?" Eric asked, as a little smile ghosted to his lips. "I have already let you do too much to me, and yet you ask for more."_

_ "Only one thing more," Sookie cried with murder in her eyes._

_ "My blood cannot deny you, Sookie Stackhouse." His smile stayed on his lips, but it left his eyes. "And as I have told you, it is _all_ about the blood for a vampire."_

_ With that, his hand released hers and she thrust the stake into his chest—into his heart—but instead of being covered with his gore, Sookie landed with a thud onto the throne. Eric was simply gone._

_ "Good girl," Sookie heard Bill say from behind her. _

_ His voice shook her from the shock of killing Eric as well as the surprise of the Viking's disappearance. _

_ "Bill!" Sookie yelled as she finally was able to run to her beloved's side. "I'm so sorry for doubting you!"_

_ "It was not your fault, my love," Bill comforted. _

_ Sookie yanked at Bill's chains, but she could not free him. _

_ "Why can't I get these off of you?" she asked._

_ "You have to find me, Sookie. You must come to me. I can no longer feel you because of Eric's blood in you, but we can make things right. All you have to do is come to me, Sookie."_

_ "I will," she promised, even as she began to weep. "But I'm so scared! What if I'm too late to save you?" _

_ "Just hurry, and you won't be," Bill said in a smooth voice. "But first—let me feed from you, Sookie. Let me feed so that I am strong enough to survive until you come." _

_ Immediately, Sookie climbed onto Bill's lap and tilted her head so that her neck was next to his face. His fangs clicked into place, and for a moment she was back in that van, feeling all the fear that she had felt then as he bit into her flesh. _

_ Bill fed deeply, yet she didn't feel like she was being physically weakened. She just felt more and more afraid._

_ "Bill," Sookie whimpered. "Please. Stop."_

_ Bill pulled back and licked his lips. "I am sorry, my love. I am just so frail because of the silver. Let me feed you now. Let me take away your fear," he said seductively._

_ Suddenly, his bloody wrist was before her, and Sookie drank. She no longer had the capability to ask how his hand got free so that he could give her blood. She didn't question anything in that moment. She just drank._

_ "Come to me, Sookie," Bill said as he pulled his wrist away. "Let nothing stop you."_

* * *

Sookie jolted from her sleep with a mixture of fear and anger in her heart. Eric had tricked her again! And Bill was in grave danger—all because she had let Eric's blood manipulate her!

She scrambled to her feet and then ran downstairs, her feet clad only in socks. In her hurry, she skidded on the tile floor of the kitchen as she tried to stop and grab the keys from the counter. Her forehead hit the countertop as she fell down, and she skinned both her knees on the hard floor. But she didn't let those wounds stop her. Instead, she eyed the kitchen stool that had toppled over with her—the _wooden_ kitchen stool. With a strength that she was sure came from Eric Northman's treacherous blood, she broke the stool and collected one of its wooden legs before grabbing the keys.

She then ran to the garage and to the car where Eric was sleeping. Immediately, she regretted not knowing how to open his hidey-hole, and her fingers gripped the makeshift stake tightly. She wished nothing more than to push it through Eric's dead heart in that moment. Promising herself that she would kill the Viking at sunset, she got into the car and started it, even as she impatiently punched the button of the garage door opener.

Her fear once more increased as she thought of Bill hurting under silver chains. As soon as the door was half opened, she put the car in reverse and quickly pulled out the garage. Then she found her way out of the neighborhood and finally to the highway that would take her to Bill.

"I'm coming, Bill. I'm coming, Bill. I'm coming, Bill. I'm coming, Bill," she chanted over and over and over to herself—as if in a trance —as she sped toward the man she loved.

She said it so many times that her voice became strained and squeaky. But she kept right on saying it nonetheless.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all who continue to read, follow, "favorite," and review! This will be (for real) the last chapter for the week as I move to **_**Touch the Flame**_**. I'm glad that I got you four again. You can blame the birthday girl and your wonderful words for the extra "motivation." (No—Sephrenia—that's not carte blanche for you to try to "motivate" me with your stick.**

**I'm very sorry to have left you with a cliffhanger. Oh—who am I kidding? I'll "see" you in a little more than a week. ;) **

**Cheers,**

**Kat**

**Remember that there are pictures on my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com). **

This is to the "guest" reviewer (at fanfiction . net) who thinks that this story is repeating the plot of _Back and Forth_ too much. I have to admit that there are similarities. There are blood ties to be dealt with. There are blood bonds to consider building. There are dreams to be had and explained. There are "common" enemies that must be dealt with. I very much try to add variety to each of my stories, and this one feels very different to me than _Back and Forth_. I'm sorry if you don't think so.

You also took issue with Sookie taking the time to ask questions and weigh her options. I'm going to defend the half an hour or so that she took. She'd seen Lafayette tortured, she'd been tricked by Eric to take his blood, Eric had seemingly been on Russell's side not 48 hours before, and she'd been nearly killed. Plus, as this chapter showed, she (like any telepath, I think) has some major self-confidence issues! I think that she's trying to smarten up and NOT go half-cocked into dangerous situations. Moreover, she'd just learned that Bill had been manipulating her (and her emotions with his blood). She'd learned that the only man to ever "love" her probably didn't. Again, a little time to weigh her options is called for. Note that she NEVER considers returning to Bill in Chapter 10. She considers staying put in Vicksburg, running on her own, and going with Eric. She weighs the pros and cons of undergoing a magical spell from a witch she doesn't know (when she just found out that there was such a thing as witches). Plus, Eric had told her that the spell would mean a lot of pain for her. I'd take twenty minutes to mull that particular decision over too if I had them—and Eric's giving those minutes to her. She's shown that she has a lot of instinctual trust for Eric, and she's demonstrated that there's no way she wants to return to Bill.

As for this story leading to the same fate for Eric at Russell's hands as occurred in _Come Back to Me_—all I can say is that it doesn't. But, as I said before, there will be—_inevitably_—some similarities between this story and my other E/S stories. I hope that you will continue reading for the 95% that I believe is different. If not—then I'm sorry to lose you in this story and hope that you will try out any others that I do. Like I said, I try to keep things "fresh," but—ultimately—it is up to the reader to decide for himself/herself if I succeeded. And that is—inevitably—subjective. Thanks for sharing your opinion. You should feel free to sign in with such things. What you wrote made me think and was constructive, so you needn't fear any "retaliation" on my part. And—hopefully—my others readers would also respect your opinion as well.

I hope you will keep going,

Kat


	14. Chapter 14: Blood Knight

**A/N:** Hi all. I know, I know. I'm a liar. I said that there would be no more chapters of this story this week, but I had to put something out. And I needed to right some assumptions that many of you made (probably because I wasn't clear enough about what was going on).

First, please don't think that the Sookie in this story is going to be dumb, stupid, irrational, etc. This is the Sookie we met in Seasons 1-3. She's made some mistakes and been too trusting of Bill, but she's new to relationships, and she's had NO idea about the effects of the blood before. This is also a Sookie who has been through a lot in a very short time. **But she is going to stand firm in her decision to sever the blood tie with Bill**.

The ONLY reason that she behaved as she did in the last chapter was because of the nature of the dream that Bill sent to her. He sent a "new" kind of dream that I'm making up for this story; it's called a "woven dream." In this dream, Bill _literally_ took control of Sookie. She **DID** try to fight him by bringing Eric into her dream (yeah—SHE did that! Remember, Eric said that he wouldn't compel her to dream of him that day). But—frankly—once Sookie fell asleep, it was only a matter of time before she was under Bill's power. His blood is hitting her nerves, hormones, etc. with continuous terror. Can you imagine begin in a nightmare and then waking up only to still be trapped in it? Well—that is what Sookie is experiencing. She **CANNOT** stop herself from the impulse to go to Bill. The continuous fear inside of her is compelling her, and if she resists, she will die. Yes—die. She can't stop to think rationally. She can't stop to think at all! She is a ball of fear. That is why Russell was so surprised that Bill would send such a dream at the end of Ch. 12. This dream could literally drive Sookie to her death or to suicide or to insanity.

So, please, stop assuming the worst of her. I know you are "gun-shy" because she's made such mistakes in other stories. And I know that it is my fault as a writer when so many of you interpreted the last chapter as Sookie going back to her "old" habits and taking back Bill. But this Sookie is not doing that. Bill has taken away her control. And Sookie is powerless.

The chapter upcoming will give you more from Eric's POV. Please let his reaction to what is going on help you to determine how to interpret Sookie's actions during this episode. Trust me when I tell you that what Bill's doing here is akin to rape because he's taken away her control against her will. Sookie's Bill's victim, not his accomplice.

All of this will be made clear in the next few chapters, but so many of you seemed ready to jump off the boat and stop reading. And I would hate for that to happen because you had incomplete information. Let the story progress a little, and you will see what I mean. I know that it's difficult not to make quick assumptions about Sookie. After all, the Sookie character has done a lot of rash things in other incarnations of the story (including the source materials). But the Sookie in this story is not that Sookie. If you know my writing at all, you know that I believe in a strong Sookie—flawed and damaged by years of mental turmoil—but strong nonetheless.

**A/N #2**

Now that that is out of the way, I have another quick note. You will "hear" the unique accent of Octavia Fant in this chapter. I don't often "write in an accent," but in my head, that's how she talks. Here's a key:

Most of the time, she says "th" as if it were "d." For example, "the," becomes "dee." "That" becomes "dat."

Sometimes she says "th" like a "t." For instance, she says "ting," instead of "thing."

I think you'll catch on quick.

Okay—now on with the Chapter 14.

**Chapter 14: Blood Knight**

"**A true knight is fuller of bravery in the midst, than in the beginning of danger."—Sir Philip Sidney**

Eric was an old vampire, and—as such—he had the ability to wake up before the sun set, especially if he sensed danger. But it wasn't danger that woke him—at least not in a traditional sense. It was the feeling that Sookie Stackhouse was once again near death!

Her suffering pulled him harshly from his rest. He quickly gauged that it was a little more than one hour before sundown, and Sookie's heart was beating erratically—so much so that he feared she was close to cardiac arrest.

Eric quickly did an assessment of his location. As expected, he was still in his resting place within his car; however, the car was moving. Sookie should have made it to Slidell only a few hours after sunrise. But the car was traveling north at a high rate of speed.

Something was _very_ wrong.

The Viking turned his attention back to the woman driving the car. He closed his eyes and asked his blood to fully evaluate her condition. Sookie was petrified—literally shaking with fear—and her hormone levels were incredibly high. Her adrenaline was off the charts. Her heart rate was like that of someone who had just run a marathon. Her blood pressure was dangerously high. She was literally on the jagged edge of insanity.

And she smelled of blood—though not much. She'd been physically wounded.

If his blood had not been inside of her, Eric's first impulse would have been to suspect that Sookie had made the irrational decision to run back to Bill Compton. However, he _did_ know better. The Sookie he was sensing was not really "Sookie" at all—not by a longshot! She was a ball of fear—the kind of terror that could paralyze even the bravest of men. But she had not been paralyzed by it. Instead, her fear was compelling her into action.

"Bill?" Eric muttered to himself, half in anger and half in question. Only one thing that Eric knew about could have caused Sookie's intense and life-threatening reaction: a woven dream. Eric shook his head in disbelief. He was a thousand years old, yet he was unable to weave dreams. In fact, he had never heard of a vampire younger than 1,300 or so developing the ability. Hell—he'd not even known that woven dreams existed until a few hundred years before!

But it was obvious to him that Sookie was ensnared in a woven dream—a dream which had started while she slept and now continuing as a kind of waking nightmare. She was powerless to fight against it. She was just as trapped in it as he was in his enclosure.

It was as if she were sleepwalking; her eyes were open and she seemed conscious, yet her unconscious mind was controlling her every movement. And Bill's blood was in control of that.

"Fuck!" he yelled as he pounded the top of his enclosure with his fist. "I was the one who told her to sleep!" he chastised himself.

Eric quickly put aside his shock and his anger. The fact was clear: Bill was capable of producing woven dreams. Either that, or an ancient vampire like Russell had somehow gotten blood into Sookie after dawn, but Eric could smell no evidence of that having occurred, nor could his blood sense the presence of any new blood inside of her.

What it could sense was Bill's blood, extremely active and currently surrounding the centers where fear was produced in Sookie's body.

The Viking didn't know a lot about dream-weaving; what he did know was from what Godric had told him once Eric reached what ancient vampires called the "age of knowledge," which occurred when a vampire turned 800 years un-dead. Generally speaking, the most well-guarded secrets about vampire-kind were kept from younglings, who might misuse the information or create messes by trying to develop abilities they couldn't yet control. The knowledge of woven dreams had been one of those secrets that Eric had learned about from Godric just a couple hundred years before.

Eric knew that only two things could "wake" up a human once a woven dream was controlling him or her.

The first was the vampire who had sent the dream. The vampire—upon his own waking—would immediately feel it if his human prey was caught in a woven dream. At that point, the vampire could either release the human or keep the human enthralled in his grasp.

Competing magic could also pull someone from a woven dream—though magic could not prevent such a dream. However, from what Eric knew―which was admittedly not everything—pulling a human from a woven dream was a very tricky operation. But it was all he could think of.

Quickly, the Viking pulled out his phone and dialed Octavia's number. He knew that Sookie's ears would not be able to pick up his conversation. In fact, he could have yelled at the top of his dead lungs, and she wouldn't have been able to hear him, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. She was imprisoned in her dream and chanting a single phrase again and again. "I'm coming, Bill. I'm coming, Bill. I'm coming, Bill."

Eric was thankful when Octavia answered on the second ring.

"I am listening," she answered. Part Creole and part Jamaican, as well as part demon, Octavia had an accent all her own.

"It is Eric," he said.

"I know who dis is," she cackled.

"Is the line secure?" the vampire asked.

"As surely as the sun is still in dee sky, Viking. It tis early—even for you."

"I know," Eric said. "But the human I told you of—the one you are to do the severing spell on tomorrow morning—is currently in the midst of a woven dream and is driving me closer and closer by the second to the three-thousand-year-old vampire who wants to kill me!"

Octavia chuckled a little. "You _are_ in a bit of a spot den, vampire. What did your maker once call you? A magnet for trouble?"

Eric ignored her remarks. "When the sun comes up, I intend to secure the human, turn us around, and bring her to you," he informed. "Can you stop the dream?"

"How far are you from New Orleans?" Octavia asked.

Eric closed his eyes. "When the sun sets, I will be approximately two hours and thirty minutes away by car and fifty minutes away by flight."

"Too long," Octavia said. "I could not stop dee dream before it killed her. If you prevent her from continuing in dee direction of her destination, den you will be signing her death warrant yourself, vampire. Dee distress of going against dee flow of dee dream would cause her heart to stop within ten minutes—and dat is if she is strong. Some are killed immediately when dey are stopped from answering the compulsion of such a dream."

"Fuck!" Eric shouted, his voice echoing in his chamber. In that moment, he felt his dead heart wrenching. He knew that at sundown, he'd still be plenty far away from Shreveport—_and_ from Russell. He could simply pop open the hatchback and fly out, leaving Sookie to her fate. But the thought of that was unacceptable to him. There had to be another way!

"Unacceptable, witch! I need you to stop Sookie's dream!" he yelled.

"And will yelling at me help dee human?" Octavia asked facetiously. "No I tink not," she answered her own question.

She sighed and her tone became more compassionate. "You could take the chance that dee vampire sending dee dream would end it. If you altered her course away from her destination after sunset, dee vampire would feel her distress. He could stop dee dream before she was killed. The trauma to the human would be great, but I could mend her—_perhaps_—though her mind might never be dee same."

"And if the vampire didn't stop the dream?" Eric asked, his jaw so tight that he felt it might crack apart.

"As I said, she would die."

"What if you drove toward our position and we met you?" Eric asked hopefully.

"'Twould take me till sunset to gather my materials for the spell as it tis," Octavia said. "'Twould not be enough time, even then. I am sorry, vampire, but I cannot unweave dis dream for you."

Eric sighed and mused aloud. "I cannot trust Compton not to kill Sookie. I should have ended him last night!" he added angrily.

"Yes—one such as he who sent dis dream ought to be put down," Octavia agreed harshly.

"I will have to leave her," Eric said, almost choking out his words. "If I could be sure that Bill was alone, I would stay and kill him. But I cannot be sure. And, if Russell is with Bill, it will be worse for her if I stay."

"You could kill her," Octavia said, "and prevent your great enemy from having her."

"No," Eric said in barely a whisper. "That I could not do, nor can I be the cause of her death by preventing her from obeying the dream." He sighed heavily, the sound raspy to his ears. "At sunset, I will remove myself from my resting place and," he paused, "let her go."

"Dee thought of dat saddens you," Octavia observed.

"She is an asset," Eric responded, even as he flattened his palm against the top of his enclosure. He feared that his hand—now less than a foot from where she sat—was the closest he'd ever be to Sookie Stackhouse again.

"Of course—just an asset. 'Tis obvious." Octavia chuckled.

"Why do you laugh?" Eric asked bitterly.

She ignored his question and asked one of her own. "Your blood is in her—is it not?"

"Yes," Eric answered.

"_A lot_ of your blood—correct?"

"Yes."

"An older vampire's blood has _powerful_ magic," Octavia observed. "You may be able to use it to take the human out of her dream. 'Twould be dangerous, but it tis her only chance."

"I haven't given many humans my blood," Eric countered. "Thus, I have very little practice with manipulating my blood in a human," he added, even as his mind flashed to the previous night when he'd been able to move his blood to heal Sookie's most pressing injuries first.

"Tsk," Octavia sounded. "You are over a thousand years old, Viking. And Godric was your maker. And Klymene was his. Your blood is powerful enough. You need only make it act as you wish. The question is dis: Would your human feel that the risk was worth taking?"

"She is not mine," Eric said softly—almost with regret. "She belongs to no one," he added fervently.

There was a smile in Octavia's voice. "Is dat what you believe, vampire? Or is dat what dee girl believes?"

"Both," Eric answered immediately, surprising himself a bit with both his response and its fervor.

"Den she would tell you dat the risk was worth it. She would not want to go to dee one who had woven such a dream. Only a monster would do such a ting."

Eric nodded, even though he knew that Octavia couldn't see him. "How do I do it?"

"Carefully," Octavia chuckled, but then grew serious. "Use your blood to track down dee parts of her that his blood is controlling. What is dee emotion dat is ruling her?" she asked.

"Fear—no terror," Eric clarified.

"So dee dream weaver truly is a monster," Octavia said judgmentally.

"I had no idea he would go to these lengths," Eric said. He gasped.

"What tis it?" Octavia asked.

"Sookie's arrhythmias are worsening. I fear for her heart," he said—that fear clear in his tone.

"Den you must fight for dat heart."

"How?" Eric demanded desperately.

"How do you stop fear, Eric?" Octavia asked.

"You alleviate it—with reason and control," the vampire responded.

"And comfort," she added. "Comfort _most_ of all."

"Yes," he agreed, "comfort."

"And you wish to comfort dis girl?" the witch asked. "You must _wish_ it—wish it more dan anyt'ing—or dee magic in your blood will not work."

"I wish it," he said quietly.

"Den you may yet be able to help her, but her fear must be comforted away a little at a time. Do _not_ try to go too fast, or dee human will go into shock. Use your blood as a slow salve to dee fire of her pain. Sneak up on dee other vampire's blood. Surround dee woven dream. But smother it slowly so dat it does not think to defend itself until it tis too late."

"How will I know if it is working," he asked.

"Her fear will dissipate slowly until dee dream is almost slain. In the end, dee remnants of dee dream will become aware of dee attack, and in its desperation, dee other vampire's blood will try to re-stoke dee fires of her fear. In dat moment, use everything dat is in you—all of dee care dat you have for dis girl—to douse dee flames."

"What if I do not succeed before the sun sets?" Eric asked nervously.

"Begin now. If you have not pulled her from dee dream by sunset, dee other vampire will be able to fight back. And—if you do not stop your actions den, dee girl will die. She will be torn apart." With those words, the line went dead.

Eric wasted no time; he immediately activated his blood in Sookie's body to seek out everything that Bill's dream was controlling. As Octavia advised, he kept his blood from engaging with Bill's at first. He simply surrounded the other vampire's blood as it worked to keep up its influence on Sookie's hormones and nerves.

Bill's blood was almost robotic in its movements, stimulating Sookie's fears over and over again without reprieve or pause—without mercy. Eric had never imagined a vampire's blood could be so single-minded about causing the kind of damage and pain that Bill's currently was.

Eric might have been impressed by the younger vampire's cruelty if Bill had been torturing his worst enemy. However, Bill supposedly loved Sookie, and the Viking couldn't fathom how a vampire—or any other type of being—could do such a thing to someone he or she cared for.

Once Eric had all of Bill's malevolent blood surrounded, he allowed a fraction of his own blood to slowly begin to calm Sookie's frayed nerves. To provoke fear in a human was relatively easy in a metabolic sense. However, alleviating fear was more difficult.

Eric listened carefully to Sookie's heart rate—which was still dangerously rapid and erratic. He prayed to Freya that it would calm—just a little—to show him that his efforts were working.

From what Eric could tell, Sookie was experiencing a repeating cycle of fear, as if she were a nightmare-riddled sleepwalker who could not be woken up. Thankfully, Sookie was young and strong, and her fairy DNA would help her body to survive—or, at least, he hoped that it would.

"Stay with me, Sookie," Eric pled. "Just a little longer. I'm coming. You are not alone in there."

The Viking shook his head angrily, wishing desperately that he had told Sookie to stay awake, lest Bill try to influence her with a dream. However, he'd never even fathomed the possibility that Bill could weave dreams. Any vampire with a tie could send a dream, but so few were dream-weavers. Eric had had no doubts at all that his own blood could cancel out any dreams that Bill did manage to send. The Viking shook his head again. Because of his shortsightedness and his arrogance, he had underestimated Bill Compton. And—worse—he had failed Sookie.

Eric imagined torturing Bill slowly as he gave a little more of his blood permission to soothe Sookie's frazzled emotions by asking her body to produce serotonin. The Viking was not yet sure if what he was doing was having any effect, but he was determined to keep going—and to be patient, as Octavia had cautioned.

"Comfort," he said aloud.

Even as Eric activated a bit more of his blood, he winced as he continued to feel the severity of Sookie's emotions. He heard her voice crack and then break as she continued her chanting above him.

Now that Eric was actively trying to counteract the dream, he sensed its effects—the fear, the terror—even more acutely than before. Just feeling it in Sookie was almost too much for him. He couldn't imagine what Sookie was experiencing. He steeled himself, knowing that he could not allow himself to succumb to his own fear, anger, or despair—not if he was to help Sookie.

He shook his head. He still couldn't believe that Compton was capable of doing what he'd done. Even if Bill had the ability to weave dreams, the Viking couldn't fathom _why_ he'd actually done it—to Sookie!

"How could you?" Eric asked aloud, though the vampire he wanted to be asking was nowhere near him. "How could you do this to _her_?" he asked again, knowing that even if Bill was there, he could give no answer that would satisfy him.

Eric was heartened as he suddenly felt Sookie calming a little. He listened to her heart; it was still beating rapidly—too rapidly—but the beat was less erratic. He activated a little more of his blood.

"Not too fast," he reminded himself. The Viking closed his eyes. He felt his blood moving in to slowly soothe every single part of Sookie that Bill's dream had taken hold of. He did not, however, try to stifle Bill's blood. Instead he worked to quieten the chemical reactions of Sookie's body—to counteract Bill's magic rather than to destroy it.

Eric smiled a little. Many months before, he had deduced that Sookie was fond of hugs, for he had smelled the scents of many beings clinging to her during their various encounters. Hugging was not something vampires indulged in very often. To do it required an opening of oneself. But it was the act of comfort that Eric imagined as he lay less than a foot away from her. He was so close to her, but he could not hug her body to his. So, instead, he imagined his blood holding her in his stead.

Every piece of himself inside of Sookie found a traumatized piece of her. Trying to take away all of her suffering and pain, every drop of his blood held onto a cell of hers. There was so much fear in her that Eric shook because of it. But he let himself embrace the reaction her fear was causing in him. He let it move his body—move _to_ him. However, instead of succumbing to the fear, he forced himself to face all of the things that had brought him the most terror throughout his thousand years.

The night monster and the wolf-men who had murdered his parents and his baby sister.

His maker meeting the sun.

The threat that he would lose Pam.

The thought of the woman driving him toward Shreveport being gone from his life.

Russell Edgington.

Powerlessness.

Being trapped in a box when he wanted to be holding Sookie Stackhouse.

Failing to protect her.

Not living up to his human father's expectations for him.

Disappointing Godric.

Being completely alone in the world.

Sookie crying.

Eric let his own fears grip his dead heart even as he smelled the tears streaming down Sookie's cheeks. He hated her tears, even as he hated his own fears. He imagined himself wiping away her tears and holding her close—rocking her against his body as his mother had rocked him when he was a young child awakened by nightmares.

Eric sighed. He had truly believed that his mother was magic—a handmaiden to the goddess Freya. In his mother's embrace and listening to her comforting voice singing to him, every single one of Eric's fears from his nightmares had been obliterated. The Viking imagined his blood singing to Sookie, robbing her nightmares of their power. And then he noticed that he really was singing—a long-forgotten lullaby.

He closed his eyes and could feel Bill's dream steadily losing its power as his own blood continued to offer Sookie comfort from her fear. Eric was poised, waiting for the moment Octavia had told him about—waiting to drown Sookie in his care for her. But so far, Bill's blood did not seem to notice his interference.

In that moment, Eric's ears picked up the unmistakable siren of a police cruiser, followed quickly by Sookie's desperate cursing before he felt the car slow down and then pull over to the side of the road. Eric sighed. He was happy that they'd stopped, but it was still ten minutes before sunset. And the policeman might make even more trouble for them by interfering with the process that was ongoing in Sookie's body.

Still, the vampire was buoyed. He knew that Sookie would have never pulled over during the height of her trance; in fact, her pulling over meant that she had regained some control.

Eric used his blood to stimulate a little more serotonin in her. Police officer or not, they could afford no delay in getting rid of the dream Bill had woven. The younger vampire would be awake in less than nine minutes.

Eric moved his blood to fully encase Sookie's adrenal glands. Then he moved other parts of himself to enclose Sookie's thyroid glands, which Bill had been affecting almost to the point of causing Sookie to hyperventilate only a half hour before. Eric prayed to Freya that his blood would communicate to Sookie that she was safe now—or, at least, as safe as he could make her on the open highway less than two hundred miles from Shreveport.

Eric heard Sookie gasp in pain. And then suddenly Bill's blood was fighting back. Eric's eyes were already tightly closed in concentration, but he felt his whole body contract and twist as he empowered his blood to wrap itself protectively around all of the parts of Sookie that Bill had attacked. And then—in a flash—Eric turned his blood around to attack Bill's. Like a tidal wave of water dashing over a flame, Eric's blood collided with Bill's. Having never experienced such a battle before, Eric tensed even more. A sword—he had used in war. His fangs—he had used. His bare hands—he had used. Now he had only his blood cells—and his will.

And then—almost as soon as it had started—the battle was won. Bill's influence was gone and the younger vampire's blood retreated powerlessly. The woven dream was no more.

Eric uncoiled his body slowly, even as he heard Sookie softly crying in the driver's seat. He could feel her confusion and her shame. He could feel her utter exhaustion, but at least her vital signs were returning to normal. He could feel her sorrow. He could even feel a little anger coming from her—and _that_ feeling, he relished. But he did not feel her fear. He sighed with relief. Sookie had passed a test that no human should have had to pass.

And she was still whole.

He sent some of his blood to Sookie's now-scarred aorta. It had been literally pounded during her dream. Thankfully, his blood inside of her still had some ability to heal. He tasked it to smooth the walls of Sookie's aorta and then ordered it to track through her blood vessels, looking for other damage.

Eric's work was interrupted by the gruff voice of a highway patrolman. "License and registration, please."

"Um," Sookie stammered as she noisily opened the glove compartment. Eric knew that it was empty.

"License and registration, please!" the patrolman repeated, louder this time.

"Sorry," Sookie said. "It must be in my bag." Eric heard her unzip and then fumble around in the duffle bag on top of the passenger's seat.

"Where're you goin' so fast this evenin'?" the officer asked, his tone now suspicious.

"Uh―my boyfriend's sick," Sookie responded, even as her voice quivered from fatigue and nervousness. "This is his car actually, and I'm going to Shreveport to be with him." She paused. "I—uh—I was upset, and I must have forgotten my purse at home. I think my license is in there, and since this is my boyfriend's car, I'm not sure where the registration is."

"Step out of the car, Miss," the officer ordered sharply.

Sookie continued to rifle through the bag.

"I said," the man growled loudly, "step out of the car! And take your hands from your bag. Slowly. Right. Now!"

Eric heard the tell-tale sound of the policeman unsnapping his revolver from his holster and then cocking his gun. And then he heard Sookie's sharp intake of breath.

Sookie's fear was back. Thankfully—this time—it wasn't from Bill. And—even better—it was joined by determination and the feeling that Eric felt from Sookie whenever she was trying to come up with a plan.

"That's it, my little trouble magnet," Eric said with a smirk. "I will be with you soon." He chuckled. "Just don't get shot before then."

**A/N #3: I hope that helped. Now—I really am going to turn to **_**Touch the Flame**_**. **

**Continued thanks for all the reviews/comments on this story. I hope that you will keep reading and enjoying the story.**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**Remember to visit my blog for pictures. Also, if the dreams, etc. is confusing and you want a "cheat-sheet," you might wanna check out Professor Northman's "Vampire Blood: 101" class. (californiakat1564 . wordpress .com)**


	15. Chapter 15: Beat Up

**Chapter 15: Beat Up**

_ "Step out of the car, Miss," the officer ordered sharply._

_ Sookie continued to rifle through the bag._

_ "I said," the man growled loudly, "step out of the car! And take your hands from your bag. Slowly. Right. Now!" _

_ Eric heard the tell-tale sound of the policeman unsnapping his revolver from his holster and then cocking his gun. And then he heard Sookie's sharp intake of breath._

_ Sookie's fear was back. Thankfully—this time—it wasn't from Bill. And—even better—it was joined by determination and the feeling that Eric felt from Sookie whenever she was trying to come up with a plan. _

_ "That's it, my little trouble magnet," Eric said with a smirk. "I will be with you soon." He chuckled. "Just don't get shot before then." _

There were only three minutes until sunset, so Eric entered the code to unlock his enclosure. If need be, he could exit its confines up to a minute before sunset and still be functional. He awkwardly chugged down a bottle of TrueBlood which he'd put into his travel container in case of emergency.

Meanwhile, Sookie had gotten out of the car and was being patted down by the patrolman. The thought of another's hands on her body—especially given what she'd been through during the past two days—made Eric's blood boil. But he held his place.

It was just under two minutes to sunset.

"What's this?" the officer asked as his voice became more aggressive.

"A—uh—a stake," Sookie stammered.

"Why would a pretty little lady like you be carryin' a stake?" the officer asked. "And what happened to your head? Did that boyfriend you're so anxious to get to do this to you?"

Eric closed his eyes, knowing very well why Sookie had the stake. It had been meant for him. In her fear, she would have staked him—without a second thought—if she could have gotten to him. The Viking contemplated for a moment. He had freed Sookie from her dream. If he just let the officer do what he was headed toward doing, Sookie would likely be taken into custody for her suspicious behavior. He, however, could bide his time in his container and then slip away unseen before heading toward his alternative escape route.

He considered that possibility as Sookie stammered out a lame answer to the policeman. In fact, he considered the idea for a good 2.8 seconds before discarding it. In the hands of the human authorities, Sookie would be vulnerable. And it would not take Russell or Bill long to find her.

Stake or no stake, Eric wouldn't let that happen.

Plus, he couldn't really blame Sookie for planning to end him. Being on the receiving end of Bill's woven dream, she'd been stripped of her power—even over her own thoughts. As a vampire, he knew all about losing control of his body because of a maker's command. He also knew about taking control of human minds—through glamour. But there were "rules" that he followed—limits that he'd imposed upon himself. He'd never used glamour to take away a person's "selfhood." And he'd never had his own mind "stolen" from him. Eric had seen and experienced much violence during his thousand years—much blood and much pain—yet he couldn't imagine a worse fate than becoming the puppet of another.

Yes—that stake, along with the woven dream itself, would be added to the growing litany of items for which Eric planned to punish Bill Compton. He smiled at the thought of spending a lot of "quality time" with Bill. He couldn't imagine a kind of torture that would be comparable to the hell that Bill had just put Sookie through, but Eric planned to take years—if need be—to find one that was equivalent.

As soon as the sun was exactly sixty seconds from setting, Eric used his foot to activate the release lever for his enclosure. Immediately, the hatchback flew up and Eric used his gift of flight to propel himself from his box as if he'd been loaded on a spring. In the next moment, he had the patrolman by the scruff of his uniform behind a tree just off the side of the highway. Thankfully, the wooded area and the cloudy sky protected him from most of the effects of the waning sun.

Eric looked deeply into the officer's eyes and immediately had the man under his influence. "Does the camera on your dashboard just record or does it send live pictures somewhere?"

"It just records," the officer responded immediately. "The department can't afford the fancier kind."

"You pulled over the Prius but found nothing suspicious. You let the _man_ who was driving the vehicle off with a warning for speeding when you found out that he was a surgeon and had been called in to perform an emergency surgery. You then felt the call of nature and came over to this tree to take a piss. While here, you smelled something dead, and like the good cop you are, you went to investigate it—didn't you?"

"Yes," the officer said, fully enraptured by the vampire's glamour.

"The odor was from a dead deer," Eric continued.

The highway patrolman nodded.

"In exactly six minutes, you will return to your car and go on with your day—won't you?"

"Yes," the officer answered distantly as Eric released him.

As the vampire left the wooded area, he felt very minor blistering on his skin, but he was already healing, even as his ultimate enemy finally slipped into the horizon. When he returned to the car, Sookie was still standing next to the passenger-side door, which was where the officer had taken her. She had picked up the stake that the patrolman had dropped when Eric had grabbed him. Her hands were shaking.

In fact, her whole body was shaking.

"You had a dream today," the Viking said evenly.

"Yes," Sookie whispered.

"Did you kill me in it?" he asked, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

"Yes," she said even more quietly.

He casually walked toward her and leaned against the car.

"The officer will be back in five minutes, Sookie," Eric said softly. "And you have four options."

"What are they?" she asked, her voice obviously taxed from her hours of continuous chanting.

"You can get into this car and continue heading where you were heading. To Bill—I presume?" he asked.

"Yes. Fangtasia," she said.

"Ah. My own club," Eric answered evenly. "At least Bill knows how to turn the knife when he thrusts it."

"Option two?" she rasped out.

"The same choice you made last night. Bill has used his blood to keep you in something akin to a waking nightmare, but I managed to stop it before sunset. He is awake now, but he can no longer use his blood in the same way since it is night. However, his blood has resumed searching for him—as it did last night—but I believe I am blocking it. Come dawn, you will undergo the severing spell—as planned. And that will prohibit things like," he paused, "today's episode for happening again."

"Option three?"

"You could still run on your own. I'd even let you take the car." Eric sighed. "But I believe that you now understand the influence Bill could have over you. I should have accounted for the possibility that Bill could send you the kind of 'day-dream' he sent. And for that, Sookie, I take responsibility. Apparently, Bill's aptitude for making humans bend to his will is quite strong, and includes not just potent glamouring skills but also dream-weaving." The vampire sighed again. "I was too passive in seeing to your wellbeing."

"And four?" she stammered timidly.

"You can try to kill me with that stake in your hands," Eric said, smirking again.

A tear fell from Sookie's eye as she dropped the stake.

"Eric," she whispered. "I already staked you in a dream today. I don't want to repeat it in reality."

He chuckled, shook his head, and picked up the stake. "I _am_ highly stakeable, so I will not take it personally."

She looked up at him, her large brown eyes watering with tears. "I haven't changed my mind about wanting the severing spell."

"Good."

"Can we go?"

The Viking nodded and opened the car door. Before Sookie could move, he quickly picked her up into his arms and carefully placed her into the seat before buckling her in. He shut the hatch back and then zipped to the patrolman's car. He quickly located and removed the tape from the officer's dash-cam and took an unopened bottle of water that he found in the passenger seat of the patrol car. Then he zipped back to the Prius and got behind the wheel. After opening and then handing the water to Sookie, he turned on the engine, signaled, and pulled smoothly back onto the interstate. A sign indicated that the next exit was in six miles.

The pair in the car was silent as Sookie drank the water to alleviate her sore throat.

Eric took the exit and then turned around and got back on the highway toward Slidell. They were approximately halfway between Slidell and Shreveport, near a little town called Opelousas.

"Your head is bleeding," Eric said after they'd traveled about fifteen minutes.

As if awoken from a daze, Sookie lifted her hand up to her head and felt the wound on her forehead. "I tripped and hit the kitchen counter earlier," she said.

Eric sighed. "My blood is healing it, but head wounds take a bit of work and your adrenaline was too elevated to heal you earlier. Are you feeling dizzy?"

She let out a little sob. "I don't know."

"Do not cry, Sookie. There is no reason to cry now."

"No reason?" she asked as anger rose in her voice. "No reason!"

"No reason. Not now," Eric repeated.

She looked at him with her mouth agape. "How about the fact that the man I thought I loved sent me a dream that freaked me out so badly that I wanted to kill you? How about the fact that I felt compelled to drive at high speeds toward a fate of captivity and pain? Isn't that a reason to fucking cry? I was out of my fucking mind, Eric!"

The vampire didn't answer. Simply put, there wasn't a good answer for her.

"Or how about the fact that, for the last few hours, I haven't even been in control of my own actions?"

Again, the vampire said nothing.

"Or how about the fact that I would have killed the one person who's been trying to help me? The one person who's told me the truth? I _would_ have killed you, Eric! I _wanted_ to kill you!"

Again, there was silence.

"Or how about the fact that my head hurts like hell now that I'm back to myself?"

This time, Eric responded. "Do not worry about that. You probably suffered only a minor concussion. It shows your strength that you were able to navigate the car this far—without passing out."

She glared at him. "What about the fact that my knees are bloody and hurting?"

"Those wounds have already healed, Sookie," he said reasonably.

"And the fact that I cut my foot when I got out of the car a little while ago because I didn't even put on shoes before I left the Slidell house?"

"That cut is also currently healing."

She huffed. The tears were now streaming from her eyes. "What about the fact that I peed in my pants somewhere along the way?"

Eric shrugged. "I admit that you _have_ smelled fresher, little one."

"Fresher?!"

"Indeed. But your reaction is understandable. Bill's influence stimulated your fear, and that often leads to humans not having control over their bodily functions. Plus, Bills' control would not have allowed you to stop until you were almost out of gasoline—or unless stopping would have enabled you to find him more rapidly. So—your incontinence could be construed as _my_ fault."

"What?" Sookie asked confusedly, even as she turned beet red because of the topic of her bladder control—or lack thereof.

"I have a _very_ fuel efficient vehicle, Sookie," he smirked. "But thankfully the seats are leather, and they've also been treated with Scotchguard. So—no permanent damage done."

After a few moments of shock, Sookie started laughing almost uncontrollably.

The vampire joined her.

* * *

At the first exit after they turned east onto Interstate 10 from Interstate 49, Eric pulled off the highway and then drove past two well-lit convenient stores before stopping at a small, rundown gas station. He turned so that he was looking Sookie in the eye. "I need you to go in and pay for the gasoline. Can you do that?"

She nodded.

"Good," Eric said. "After you pay, go to the restroom at the side of the building." He gestured toward where he was talking about. "After five minutes, I will knock three times in quick succession."

She nodded again and then took the forty dollars he handed to her.

"Also buy yourself some more water or whatever drink you prefer. And a snack. We will not be back in Slidell for another two hours."

She nodded for a third time.

"Sookie?" he asked.

"Yeah?" she mumbled.

"Just checking," he smirked.

"Checking?" she asked.

"Yes," he grinned. "I wanted to make sure you still had the ability to speak.

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned even wider.

"Sookie?"

She rolled her eyes again. "What?" she demanded.

Appreciating the light that was reappearing in her eyes, he chuckled at her fiery response. "Did you call anyone after you woke up today? While you were trapped under Bill's influence? Did you tell anyone about the safe house or about your plan to do the severing spell?" he asked, his voice even.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I would have called my brother or Sam or Tara or Lafayette or even Bill's voicemail, but I didn't have a phone," she confessed.

"Okay," he responded. "And you didn't pull over to use a pay phone?"

"No," she answered. "Wait. I would remember if I did—right?"

"Yes," Eric nodded.

"Then—no. Once I was in the car, I didn't make any stops."

"Good," Eric said with something akin to pride in his voice.

"Good?" she asked.

"Good," he affirmed. "I will see you soon, little one," he said softly.

Sookie got out of the car and went into the small convenient store. Thinking of the scene in _Harry Potter_ when Professor Lupin gave Harry chocolate so that he could recover from his encounter with the dementors, she grabbed a package of Ding Dongs. Then she picked up a premade ham and cheese sandwich that looked awful, but would fill her up. Finally, she grabbed a bottle of Gatorade before making her way to the front of the store. She considered getting Eric a TrueBlood, but then thought better of it.

"Will this be all?" the acne-faced teen at the counter asked; he barely looked up from his phone as he operated the cash register.

"And the gas," Sookie responded.

"Pump number?" he asked.

"Uh—whatever one the car out there's at," she answered.

He sighed in frustration and peeled his face from his phone once again so that he could glance outside.

"That's pump three," he said testily, as if reprimanding her.

"Pump three it is then. Thank you," Sookie responded, seeing no reason to forget her own manners simply because the teenager in front of her had obviously been born in a barn. "Do I need a key to get into the bathroom outside?"

The teen sighed and then—as if it were the most cumbersome chore in the world—handed her a small key with a large brick as a key chain.

"Bring it back when you're done and _don't_ try to steal it," he said as she handed him the money to pay for her transaction. The distracted teen shortchanged her by sixteen cents, but she said nothing, instead opting to shake her head and wonder when she had become so freakin' old.

Key/brick in hand, Sookie took her small bag of food and went to the bathroom. Not knowing what else to do, she relieved herself and tried to clean herself up a little. Peeing in her pants had been embarrassing enough, but having Eric know about it was downright humiliating. Just as she was flushing the toilet, she heard three knocks.

She sighed and then opened the door.

Eric quickly entered with his duffel bag in his hands. Without a word, he pulled out another pair of his boxer shorts.

After handing them to her, he turned around and waited as she discarded her own soiled sweatpants and panties for his too-large clothing.

"Okay," she said when she was done.

"Throw them away," Eric said of the garments she'd taken off. He gestured toward the small wastebasket. He then looked at her cautiously before picking her up and placing her onto the small counter. He examined her head wound and then moistened a towel before cleaning it. His expression was an odd mixture of concern and forced detachment.

"Is it okay?" she asked in a whisper.

"Almost healed; the wound is already closed, though there's still a little pinkness," he answered before throwing away the used towel. He repeated his actions with her once-skinned knees before taking off her blood-stained sock and looking at the cut on her foot.

"It was a pretty deep cut," he said. "My saliva would finish healing it."

"Okay," Sookie said, though her voice sounded a bit shaky. Eric bent down and quickly washed her foot with a wetted towel before licking it a few times.

She giggled at the feeling of his tongue on her skin.

"Tickles," she said as he looked up at her in question. Her cheeks were flushed.

"I'll have to remember that," he said with a little smile.

The look of longing in his eyes made her wonder just what he was going to remember.

"What do I taste like?" she asked when she realized that this was the first time Eric had tasted her blood. His face was controlled, but his eyes were burning a bright blue.

"Like every wish I've ever had," he answered enigmatically. His voice was as controlled as his expression, except for a moment—when it caught on the word, "wish." Eric pulled a fresh pair of socks out of the duffel bag and put them onto Sookie's feet.

Finally, he took out the little bottle, which contained the potion that would cover her scent. Again, he rubbed a few drops of it onto her forehead.

That finished, he grabbed her bag of food and put it into the duffel bag before collecting the garbage bag from the wastebasket and tying it.

"Ready?" he asked.

She nodded and went to stand up, but he stopped her. "I will carry you since I have no appropriate footwear."

She would have protested, but she found that she didn't have the energy, so she just nodded again as he picked her up and zipped her back to the car.

* * *

"I'm tired," she said wearily when they'd been back on the road for about thirty minutes. She'd already eaten her Ding Dong and had picked at her sandwich as much as she was able.

"Then sleep," he said.

"I'm afraid. What if I dream?" she asked.

"I _will_ stop him, Sookie. Or I will wake you. He cannot send the same kind of dream during the night that you experienced today."

Sookie sighed and then nodded. Before too many more minutes, she was asleep, her head resting against the passenger's side window.

As Eric continued to block Bill's blood, he looked over at the sleeping woman next to him. Her skin was pale and his blood inside of her told him that she was worn-out from the woven dream.

Whether Sookie knew it or not, she _had_ fought against Bill's influence over her. She had fought right alongside of his own blood. Yet he'd felt only shame and sadness from her earlier as he'd seen to her minor wounds. She should have been celebrating the fact that she had resisted contacting her friends and family. She should have been proud that she hadn't called Bill's cell phone and told him where she was in addition to all of their plans. Instead, she was beating herself up for her shortcomings.

She reminded Eric of someone—someone he saw in the mirror every day.

* * *

**A/N: Howdy. Well—I'm back for another week with this story. And my insomnia last night means that you get a chapter a day before anticipated. It's another heavy grading week for me, so I'm not sure how many chapters I'll get you, but I'll try for at least two more before I switch back to **_**Touch the Flame**_**.**

**Thanks so much for all the support for this story and for all the comments about the previous chapter. I could tell that you liked Eric in the role of "blood knight." Despite his protests, he does make an excellent "hero." He also makes a lovely "nurse"—doesn't he? ;)**

**Until the next one, **

**Kat**

**P.S. Don't forget to check out my WordPress for pictures (california1564 . wordpress . com). **


	16. Chapter 16: Little One

**Chapter 16: Little One **

When Sookie woke up, she was in the comfortable bed in Slidell again. It took her a moment to register that she was in the same bed that she'd been in earlier that day. And just like the night before, Eric was across the room as if waiting for her to rise.

"Did you find the clothing satisfactory?" he asked. "I was not sure what sizes I should ask for, so I told Octavia to get a range. I would have requested the sundresses that you seem to love so much, but you will need things that do not stand out—at least for the most part."

Sookie sat up in the bed a little. She noticed that she'd been tucked into the covers. "The clothes were fine," she said a little groggily.

"You did not care for these?" he asked, holding up the size 4 jeans she'd put onto the dresser earlier.

She smiled a little. "Those are a bit too small."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll have you make a list of things you would like, as well as your correct sizes. Octavia has a young understudy who will likely be able to select things more to your style, though you must keep to a conservative wardrobe for now."

"Okay," Sookie agreed.

"I brought you some food," he said, gesturing toward the bedside table.

There was a tray with sliced cheese and bread as well as fruit.

"I cannot cook," he said in order to explain his selections. "When I was a human, foodstuffs were prepared very differently."

"It's okay," she assured, picking up the tray. "This is fine."

She took a small bite of the bread and cheese when he looked at her expectantly.

"Bread did not smell much different when I was a human," he observed. "And we had something similar to those," he added, pointing to the blackberries on the plate."

"That's real interesting, Eric, but don't we need to talk about what happened earlier? The dream?" she asked.

"Only if you still feel like staking me after your blood connection to Bill is severed," he smirked.

She sighed. "Don't be a jackass, Mr. Northman."

"Don't be stubborn, Miss Stackhouse," he returned, his smirk even more prominent.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you want to hear about my dream?"

"The one where you staked me?" he asked, his eyebrow arched. "Absolutely! I always love to hear about how people dream of my demise."

She sighed. "Can you be serious?"

"I am capable," he said—his playful tone finally eliciting a smile from her lips.

"Good," she laughed a little. "So do it! I need you serious for a minute."

"One minute," he agreed with a sparkle in his eyes.

She took a deep breath. "Bill seemed real in my dream, Eric. The things he said, the things he knew, the things he did—it was like he knew what had been going on with this." She gestured between herself and Eric. "With our—uh—partnership. Could he know? Could his blood be telling him? I mean—that's not possible, is it?"

"It is not," Eric answered after he'd taken a moment to consider.

"Then how could he have known all those things in my dream?" she asked. "He knew that you'd told me about the queen sending him. And he seemed to have a prepared explanation about that—as well as for the file Russell showed me."

Eric's expression hardened. "If you want me to respond to the question, 'how,' then you must be ready for the answer."

She shivered a little at his words. "I'm ready."

Eric looked at her through wary eyes. "Fine. But you should shower and eat first," he said, gesturing toward the food. "You can prepare yourself something else if you wish. I will not take offense. Octavia has instructed that you should eat as much as possible before the spell is conducted. I'm sure that you will also want to shower. And now that you are awake, I also have a few things to do; after that, we will speak again."

Sookie sighed. "Why does everything always have to be done according to _your_ timetable?" she asked with frustration.

"Because, Sookie Stackhouse, my goal is to get at least two more meals down you before Octavia comes at five this morning to prepare for the spell, and it is already past one o'clock. Plus," he smirked, "I am particularly fond of _my_ timetable."

Again she couldn't help her smile. She really did want another shower. Wetting oneself was not a pleasant experience—not mentally and not physically—and though she'd cleaned herself in the public restroom at the gas station as best as she could, it wasn't the same as a real shower.

"Fine," she relented.

"I shall meet with you in the living room in 90 minutes," he said as if making a business appointment.

"Fine," she said again.

* * *

As soon as Eric heard the shower turn on in Sookie's bathroom, he stripped her bed of its sheets and exchanged them for the extra set he'd found. Though the used sheets were not soiled by the scent of Sookie's urine from earlier, the vampire guessed that she would welcome the fresh sheets nonetheless.

After Eric had thrown the sheets into the washing machine, he texted Octavia with a disposable phone. He'd dropped his personal cell phone into a lake not far from where Russell had halted his pursuit the previous night.

The witch immediately texted back that all would be ready by morning and that her apprentice, Amelia, had agreed to be glamoured so that she could not speak of the severing spell, of Eric, or of Sookie. Amelia had also agreed to stay with Sookie during the days in order to prepare her meals and to take care of her until Sookie adequately recovered from the effects of the spell.

Eric's phone beeped again, and he was pleased to see that he had a text from Brady Jones, the man whom he had contacted to get Sookie's new identity papers in order. Brady was requesting a few pictures of Sookie for her new licenses and passports. Eric texted back, promising the new photos by the next morning.

Next, the vampire sped to the car and grabbed his duffel bag and the trash he'd taken from the gas station. He placed the small trash bag into the garbage container in the utility room, knowing that Octavia would be taking care of all the refuse coming from the home in order to ensure that no traces of himself or Sookie were found.

Starting a fire was next on Eric's agenda, and he took his time with it. The act of preparing the foundation for a hardy, lasting fire also served to center and to calm the Viking. He'd taken a great chance in bringing Sookie with him. Had she not agreed to throw her lot in with his, he would have already been out of the country by now. He sighed as he struck the wooden match and lit the kindling. Indeed, having Sookie along was a calculated risk.

Eric sighed. If he had not succeeded in blocking Bill's blood from tracking Sookie during their almost three-hour drive earlier that night, Bill would now know that she was near New Orleans. And the Viking had no doubt that Russell would either use Bill or follow him.

Eric was counting on the fact that the concealment spell around the house would prevent Bill from continuing his tracking. Octavia had assured him that the stronger camouflaging spell that she had erected around the property would make it impossible for any vampire—no matter how strong—to track Sookie through any blood connection. However, discovering just how potent Bill's ability to influence Sookie's dreams was, Eric would _not_ be underestimating the Civil War veteran again. Thus, the Viking wouldn't rest easy until the severing spell was completed.

Yes. Eric needed to be sure that Bill couldn't track them. But there was more to it than that, and the "more" disconcerted the Viking. Every part of him was literally aching for Bill's blood to be eradicated from Sookie. Every molecule of his own blood in her despised the insidious pieces that Bill had left behind.

After the fire was going strong, Eric left the house and stealthily flew toward a commercial complex. Finding a drug store, he landed in a dark corner of the parking lot and assessed the store's security features. There were two cameras outside the main entrance, and there would likely be many more cameras inside. The last thing that Eric needed was for the store's video system to capture his presence in Slidell. If he were leaving the next night, it would be one thing; however, he would be staying in the town for at least a week—if Octavia was right about the effects the severing spell would have on Sookie's health. Luckily, the parking lot surveillance system had many blind spots; thus, Eric was easily able to glamour an arriving customer, who got him the items he needed.

His task completed, Eric flew back to the house.

Lingering right outside of his property's borders, the vampire was satisfied. During his outing, he'd been trying to track Sookie's blood with his own. He'd used all of the strength that came with his thousand years of life. He'd used every trick of the blood that his maker had taught him.

And, when his blood tie to Sookie had failed to help him find her, he'd tried his nose, but there was nothing—no trace of her—until he stepped back onto the property. The potion Octavia had given him to conceal scent obviously worked well, and the camouflaging spell around the property seemed to work even better, for it covered both scent and blood ties. It was a shame that such spells were difficult to produce and sustain.

According to Octavia, the scent concealment potion had a range of about ten to twenty feet, so a supernatural being would have to be right on someone using the potion in order to smell him or her. And—even better—the potion worked to conceal not only a person but also the personal belongings he or she had nearby at the time the potion was applied. Thus, scents transferred to clothing and other personal items were also covered, and no scents would be left behind either. The only drawback to the potion was its lack of longevity. It could last no longer than two nights, and it was eliminated by water. Also, the ingredients needed for the potion were rare and the process for making it was time-consuming. Luckily, Eric had a standing order for the potion with Octavia, and she would have another batch ready for him before he and Sookie left the area.

Now more confident that neither he nor Sookie could be tracked by scent or blood, Eric zipped into the house. As soon as he did, he smelled Sookie, and he had to work very hard not to let his fangs pop into place. Not smelling her at all one moment and then having her scent seem to wrap around him in the next was an almost overwhelming contrast. He shook himself out of his "Sookie stupor," however, and quickly went downstairs to the small basement. He'd been lucky to find a home with a basement in the area since the elevation of the city was generally lower than sea-level; however, the part of Slidell where he'd bought his property was on the northern outskirts of the city and was at a slightly higher elevation.

Eric quickly assessed the area that would be his home for the next week or so. It was plain, but adequate—a lot like the space where he normally slept. The upstairs bedroom Sookie had chosen was light-tight, but since she had already settled there, Eric had decided to stay in the basement. It was more secure anyway, for its one entry point had locking mechanisms which would make it difficult to enter—especially for a human. The witch who would be taking care of Sookie was unknown to the Viking, and even though he trusted Octavia and planned to heavily glamour her protégé, it was better to be safe than sorry. He set his duffel bag onto the small bed, grabbed some clean clothing, and decided to take a quick shower. His appointment with Sookie was in less than fifteen minutes, and he didn't want to incur her wrath by being late.

He smiled to himself. Or maybe he would be just a little late. He did so enjoy seeing her fire.

* * *

Sookie looked impatiently at the clock on the mantel and then even more impatiently at Eric as he sauntered into the room as if he wasn't fifteen minutes late for their meeting.

"You'd think that vampires could tell time." She glared at him.

"Oh we can," he answered with his signature smirk, "right down to the millisecond."

"Then why are you late?" she seethed.

"I enjoy riling you, Miss Stackhouse," he responded with an unapologetic shrug of his shoulders.

She huffed. "Well I'm tired of being riled!"

He leered at her. "Maybe you've just never been," he paused and looked her up and down, "_riled _correctly, Sookie. But feel free to take out any frustrations that you feel on my body."

The suggestiveness of the vampire's words and in his tone made Sookie blush. "Eric," she stammered, "we need to get one thing straight right now."

"And that is?"

"I _won't_ be havin' sex with you during our little partnership—got it?"

"Oh—you might change your mind, little one. I have been told that I am irresistible." His eyebrow arched as if to prove just how irresistible he was.

Her breath hitched.

"You _are_ attracted to me," he said as he took a step toward her. "I can feel it."

"I never said that you weren't handsome," she retorted, her anger with him at odds with the lust he'd begun provoking by his mere presence. Something about his wet, unstyled hair was just downright irresistible, but she was determined to resist him nonetheless. She went on, "But I'm not gonna fall over and spread my legs for you just because of that."

His lips turned up into an amused grin. "You would not have to fall, nor would you have to spread your legs—at least not too wide. In fact, there are some positions where you wouldn't have to spread them at all."

She exhaled loudly and blushed a deeper red. "Please, Eric. I need you to promise me that you won't use your blood or your other _charms_ to try to seduce me." She sighed and in that moment, she felt defeated. "I've been seduced too much lately."

"Yes," he said, his leer disappearing and his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "But there would be _many_ differences in the way I would seduce you."

"What?" she asked, definitely feeling more riled than before—for a variety of reasons. "Sookie, I have had a thousand years to perfect my seduction techniques," she said sarcastically, doing her best impression of him.

He laughed out loud. "You are quite entertaining, Miss Stackhouse! I knew there was a reason I wanted you along."

She chuckled a little and shook her head.

"As a matter of fact," Eric said without the least bit of boastfulness in his tone, "I _have_ had a thousand years to learn how to properly pleasure a woman, but those are not the differences I was talking about."

"So," she asked, suddenly curious, "what are they?"

"I want to have sex with you, Sookie—very much—but not because of some secret plot to get you to fall in love with me or so that I can control you. I want to fuck you because you are a beautiful woman and your blood calls to me. I would give you enormous pleasure. But—make no mistake—I would also take my own pleasure _and_ your blood. There is nothing romantic or idealistic about what I want from you. However, there is nothing hidden in my agenda either. I would happily accept the short-term role as your," he paused as if searching his memory for a word, "rebound man. Or—perhaps you could look at it as revenge sex."

By the time Eric was done speaking, Sookie was an even deeper red. "You don't pull any punches, do you?" she asked.

"I'm too goddamned old to pull punches," Eric smirked. "Plus, I have no reason to lie to you about my motives regarding you."

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Regardless, I'm not the kind of girl who could just sleep around, Eric."

"I realize that," he responded.

"Right. Well—because of that—I need you to promise me that you see this—what we're doin' together—as business."

"The business of survival has always been my primary goal," Eric mused. "And I am not one to force a woman. I cannot promise that I will stop hoping to get you in a bed or against a wall or on a . . . ."

"Eric!" she yelled, placing her hands half over her hot cheeks and half over her ears.

He chuckled. "However—I will patiently wait for you to change your mind." He smirked. "And you _will_ change your mind."

"Not likely," she said under her breath.

He chuckled again, added another piece of wood to the fire, and then settled down onto the couch with her. They shared a companionable silence for a minute or two as they both looked into the fire.

"It's a little warm for a fire, isn't it?" Sookie asked after a while.

"Octavia requires one, as well as its ashes," he responded simply.

"Oh," she said softly. "Well—it's nice. I always liked fires growing up. My grandpa used to make them a lot before he died, and Gran would make a few a year, especially around Christmas time or when the propane tank was getting low."

Eric spoke in a low voice. "Without fire, my people would have been lost to the cold of our winters. That far north, the nights were also very long in the winter, so fire was the only light we had much of the time."

Sookie took a deep breath. "Will you tell me how the dreams work, Eric?"

"Yes," he said emotionlessly before turning to look at her. His eyes did not match his tone. "Have you eaten your fill for now?"

She nodded in affirmation.

"Good," he said, looking into the fire again. "The dreams vampires can send differ based on whether the vampire is awake or asleep. First, I will tell you about the dreams all vampires can send when we are awake—because I want you to be assured that you will be safe for the rest of the night, should you have time to sleep again." He paused. "There is some diversity in the strength of the dreams related to a vampire's age and practice with the skill, but the basic principle is the same for all vampires."

Sookie nodded, signaling that he should continue.

"After a human takes a vampire's blood, a blood _tie_ forms—as I told you last night. This allows the vampire to know if the human is awake or asleep. Once a human is asleep, a vampire can instruct his or her blood to stimulate the limbic system and the amygdala."

"Huh?" Sookie asked.

"Those are the parts of the nervous system related to emotional responses, behavior, and memory. They are highly active when humans are dreaming, and a vampire will use them—as well as a human's hormones—to create the effect he or she wants."

"How?"

"It is relatively easy. Once our blood is in the dream center of a human, it guarantees that the human will dream of us. If we want a human to fear us, we stimulate one hormone. If we want the human to lust for us, we stimulate another. If we want the human to feel safe with us, yet another is stimulated—and so on. It is very scientific—actually—but most vampires learn by instinct or trial and error as we monitor humans with our blood during their sleep. Dreams will naturally stir memories within a human, most likely the ones at the forefront of a human's waking thoughts. Basically, the human provides the content, the vampire shows up as a guest star, and then the vampire controls the mood, changing it or prolonging the dream as he or she sees fit."

Sookie closed her eyes and lowered her head as she remembered the various dreams she'd had at night which had featured Bill as a 'guest star.' "So every time Bill was in one of my nighttime dreams, he put himself there?"

"Likely," Eric responded without looking away from the fire, "though you could have inserted him into your dreams yourself. Normal dreams are, after all, products of your unconscious mind. But any dream originating from you would have been less vivid, and the emotions of it would have quickly dissipated."

She nodded in understanding. "What about the dreams that I've had during the day." Her voice became meek. "The one I had today?"

Eric looked back at her. "Are you sure you want to know, Sookie? Once you know, everything that you feel for Compton will be shifted. Soon, you will not have to suffer dreams from him at all. It might be best not to hurt yourself with knowledge."

"I went through hell today, Eric. And I know that Bill did that to me. And it wasn't because he was starved or near death. It was because he is obsessed to get ahold of me." She shook her head. "My feelings for him have _already_ shifted. So—please—tell me. I have a right to know," she implored.

He nodded. "As I indicated yesterday, when a vampire is sleeping, the dreams are generally not as potent—unless the vampire is what we call a dream-weaver."

"Huh?" Sookie asked. "Like that song that was in _Wayne's World_?"

Eric chuckled a little. "I'm afraid not, little one."

"Why do you call me that?" Sookie asked.

"What?"

"Little one."

Eric thought for a moment. "I was not aware I was calling you that. I do not do it consciously, so I'm not sure. Perhaps it is because you are small compared to me. Or young." He shrugged. "I can try to stop myself from saying it—if that is your wish."

Sookie shook her head. "No. It's okay. So," she took a deep breath, "what is a dream weaver?"

* * *

**A/N: After the last chapter, a few of you still seemed afraid that Sookie was going to do the "foolish, stupid" thing and forgive Bill. Please remember that this is Sookie pre-season 4. She didn't get more of Bill's blood after the van incident. She is trying to take control of her own decisions. If you look at what has been written in this version of the story so far, you'll see that Sookie **_**hasn't**_** really considered going back to Bill at all. The woven dream forced her to try to get to him, but you will notice that she wants to learn about that king of dream b/c she wants to understand why she did something that went against her own wishes. She wants to face what Bill really is. **

**That said, THANK YOU SO MUCH for the continued love for this story! Between fanfiction . net, my blog, and fictionpad, I have gotten so many wonderful words of support. These words make my days better.**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**Remember: Pictures at my WorPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress .com)**


	17. Chapter 17: Just As Real

**Chapter 17: Just As Real**

"**Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?"―John Lennon**

_ "Why do you call me that?" Sookie asked._

_ "What?"_

_ "Little one."_

_ Eric thought for a moment. "I was not aware I was calling you that. I do not do it consciously, so I'm not sure. Perhaps it is because you are small compared to me. Or young." He shrugged. "I can try to stop myself from saying it—if that is your wish."_

_ Sookie shook her head. "No. It's okay. So," she took a deep breath, "what is a dream weaver?"_

Eric looked at Sookie through narrowed eyes, as if double checking that she was—indeed—ready to hear what he had to say. After what seemed like minutes of silence, he finally answered her question. "A dream weaver is a vampire who is very skilled at sending a human not only an emotion but also an _intention_ in a dream. If the human sleeps during the day, the dream will literally take him or her over."

"Like what happened to me today?"

"Yes," Eric confirmed softly. "But—as I said—you are safe from woven dreams as long as Bill is awake."

"Why can't they be sent at night?" Sookie asked.

Eric considered for a moment. "No definitive answer to that question has ever been discovered. Some vampires believe that the process of dying for the day—and the magic enacted to preserve the vampire through that death—is somehow connected to a woven dream. Others feel that even vampires lack the stomach and fortitude to endure woven dreams along with their human targets—their victims. By all accounts, the humans at the receiving end of such dreams are in true misery."

Sookie looked down. "I know."

"Yes," Eric said. "You do." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "It is too bad that Compton will never have to endure it." His voice softened. "Godric believed in the second theory. He found the practice of dream weaving to be barbaric—a coward's way to bring pain to a human."

"Because the human would feel _all_ the pain, and the vampire would endure _none_ of it," Sookie commented, turning her focus back to the fire.

"Yes."

"And Bill's one of these dream weavers," she said matter-of-factly. "And that's a vampire gift or something?"

Eric considered for a moment. "It must be—in Bill's case. But I had never known of it being a gift." His brows scrunched together. "There are some abilities that vampires are 'born' with—so to speak. These—we call gifts. Other skills are learned over time. For instance, I had the gift of flight, but very old vampires can develop this ability through practice. However, even then, they will lack the maneuverability a natural flier has, for their flight is actually a kind of hovering, amplified by practice and the strength that comes with age."

"So dream weaving isn't a usual gift?"

"No. To become a successful dream weaver takes much aptitude and magic; thus, only very old vampires are capable of it—or, at least, that is what I thought until today." He paused. "And—even among the old—weaving dreams successfully takes much practice."

"Have you ever done it?"

He shook his head. "No. I have not given humans my blood often, and—even if I had—Godric's influence would have kept me from attempting to create such dreams. Also, my age is not generally thought of as sufficient for producing woven dreams. However, it seems that Bill's skill has developed quite early, probably through both natural aptitude and practice."

Sookie brushed away a tear.

"Should I stop?" Eric asked.

"No," she responded. "I need to know everything."

He nodded, but changed the topic slightly so that it would be less personal for her. "Dreams that come during the day can be of two varieties: one more passive on the vampire's part and one more active. It is the active type that only dream-weavers can craft."

Sookie arched an eyebrow in question. "Passive?"

"Yes. The passive type is quite easy for vampires to send," Eric explained. "Simply put, before we die for the day, we 'tell' our blood inside of a human to become active if the human sleeps before we wake. Our blood is then imprinted with our emotion in that moment. For instance, if I wanted to make you have a lustful dream of me," his eyebrows waggled, "I would imprint my blood in you with my arousal. If I wanted you to have a frightening dream of me," he let his fangs drop dramatically, "I would instill my blood with fear."

She chuckled a little.

Glad to see her smile, he went on, "However, day-sent dreams, such as those I have just described, are generally considered 'weak.' The human maintains most of the control because the vampire is asleep when the dream happens; thus, he or she cannot monitor or manipulate the human's emotions during the dream. Follow me so far?" Eric asked.

Sookie nodded, though she looked a little confused.

He chuckled. "Think of it this way. In the passive kind of dream, it is as if the vampire spurs an emotion and gives the human a piece of chalk, with which he or she can draw anything. Or the human could erase the picture altogether. The vampire nudges, but the human controls. Clearer?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Much."

He chuckled again. "So in passive dreams, the content—except for the vampire's presence—is fully from the human's own subconscious. In other words, if I sent you such a dream, it would be based on your memories and impressions of me—equally as much as on the emotion I'd sent. For instance, if I sent you a dream in which I wanted you to fear me, but you had no fear of me generally, the dream would basically fizzle out—or seem like one of those scary movie parodies. Likewise, if I sent a dream with lust, but you held no attraction for me, the dream would likely seem like an awkward encounter at a porm."

"A porn?" Sookie asked, a sudden blush firing her face.

Eric chuckled. "No—a porm. With an 'M'."

"Huh?"

"The dance for adolescents," Eric explained.

"Prom," Sookie corrected.

"Ah," Eric sounded. "Yes. Prom. But I would be up for enacting a _porn_-type dream with you," he leered, as his fangs emerged once more.

She rolled her eyes and looked at Eric pointedly until he put his fangs away.

"You are no fun, Sookie," he complained with a smirk.

She chuckled and shook her head before turning back to the fire. "Did you ask your blood to do something in my dream today? Did you give it an emotion?"

"I must have," he said evenly.

"But you said you wouldn't send me a dream," she reminded.

"I said that I wouldn't _ask_ my blood to make you dream."

"And there's a difference?" Sookie challenged.

"I think so." He smirked. "Though—perhaps—barely. The passive kind of dream can also occur even if the vampire does not consciously send it. In this case, the vampire unintentionally imprints his or her blood, which will then find its way to the human's dreams on its own. You see—a vampire's blood inside of a human is an active, living thing," he added. "It likes to be where the action is, so to speak. But in these unintentional dreams, the vampire will usually not appear. The blood just rides the human's emotions like a wave—or so I am told."

"That makes sense," Sookie mused quietly. "Today—you weren't in my dream at first. In fact, you didn't show up until after I was already getting scared." Her brows scrunched together in question. "So—uh—what did you ask your blood to do? What were you feeling before you went to sleep?"

"You tell me," Eric said pointedly, even as he leaned forward a little. She could feel his eyes boring into her, but she kept her own head turned toward the fire.

"The dream 'you' tried to keep Bill from influencing me. You tried to get me to _think_ about what I was doing. So that means that you activated your blood to protect me from him—didn't you?"

"You would know better than I," Eric said thoughtfully. "_If_ protectiveness was indeed the imprint I inadvertently sent—it is a feeling to which I am not accustomed. Plus, as I said before, my presence would have been controlled by your own subconscious, which is why you were able to expel me, but not Bill."

"And I staked you," Sookie sighed, looking back at Eric.

"You _could_ have just _asked_ me to go," he chuckled.

"I didn't think of it at the time," she smiled.

"Next time then," he remarked with a twinkle in his eye.

She nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"As you now know, some vampires can also produce a more 'active' kind of presence within a dream. They literally 'weave' a pattern into the dream—like," he paused, "a woman knitting a design into a blanket." He closed his eyes. "The one on your couch—did you weave that?"

"What?" Sookie asked, trying to stay up with his train of thought. "Oh—the afghan," she said with realization. "No. My gran made that."

Eric nodded. "It was skillfully crafted," he observed. "Such things last a long time."

Sookie nodded as her eyes filled with tears. "Yes. Gran tried to teach me to knit, but I was never very good at it."

Eric's voice softened when he saw her watery eyes. "But you understand the technique? The method she used?"

Sookie nodded. "Yes."

"Then—perhaps—you will practice the skill and become better at it with time."

She smiled a little. "Yeah. Perhaps."

He looked back at the fire. "It is a good analogy to use. An expert dream weaver is like an expert knitter. Even if a single strand were loosened and pulled, the overall structure of the creation would remain intact. But a novice dream weaver would not be so lucky, for—if a single strand were pulled on his or her work—the whole thing would unravel."

Sookie nodded. "You're tryin' to tell me that Bill is no novice."

Eric sighed. "As I said before, the skill to create woven dreams generally develops with age and a lot of experimentation." He looked at her pointedly. "Are you sure you want me to go on?"

She nodded.

Eric sighed and tried to sound detached, as if he were a teacher explaining a lesson. "The human has no power to prevent a woven dream or to escape it. It is, therefore, the most dangerous kind of dream-making—as you have learned firsthand. Since the vampire—being dead for the day—doesn't have the ability to monitor the human, there is no way to temper the human's emotional response or to end the dream if the human is in great distress. Moreover, the impulse of the dream will _not_ end with the human's waking—as you also experienced. In fact, the human awakens to a worse nightmare—a living one—where he or she is both conscious and unconscious at the same time."

"Aware of being completely out of control. Aware that you're being abused," Sookie said knowingly.

"Yes. And the effects of the dream remain in place until the vampire awakens and stops them or," Eric paused, "until the human dies or commits suicide."

"So Bill stopped things?" Sookie asked shakily. "When he woke up?"

"No," Eric corrected. "I found out today—from Octavia—that a woven dream can also be stopped by another vampire's blood. I woke up about an hour before sunset, and I was able to slowly reduce the effects that Bill's blood was producing in you. And—eventually—the dream lost its hold."

Sookie reached out for Eric's hand and was almost surprised to find it was seemingly waiting for hers.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," he responded.

"I felt so," she paused, "weak. Powerless"

"You were not weak," he insisted. "But—yes—Bill _did_ take away your control. But the fact that he did that shows _his_ weakness—not yours," he added passionately.

She smiled a little. "Thank you—again."

"You're welcome—again."

He waited for a few moments before slipping his hand from hers and adding another log to the fire. When he returned to the couch, he continued. "Most younger vampires know nothing of dream weaving, and—among older vampires—there are two very divergent opinions regarding the practice. Some vampires look down upon it—seeing it as no better than what the ancient Romans did to their gladiators. Others believe it is perfectly acceptable, and use it as a way to torture humans. Some vampires even practice it as," he paused, "sport." He sighed. "Godric told me once that there are some groups of vampires—ancient sects in Europe and South America—that place bets on dream weavers—to see how long it takes for their human victims to kill themselves or die."

Sookie let out a sob.

"But that was—I'm sure—not Bill's intention," Eric clarified. "I imagine that he is simply desperate to have you back."

They both looked into the fire until Sookie's sobs had subsided.

"As I said," the Viking picked up, "it is not a common practice among vampires because most never reach an age to make it possible." He sighed loudly. "Bill is known for his ability to glamour. And dream weaving could be seen as a complement to that gift. _I _should have foreseen that he could do it. I should have," Eric paused, "accounted for the possibility that he might try." He straightened his posture a little. "And—given the fact that I failed you in this—I wish to amend our arrangement."

"What do you mean?" Sookie asked, her eyes suddenly frightened. "Are you sayin' that you don't want me to come with you anymore? Are you sayin' that the deal between us is off? That I won't be able to get the severing spell done?"

"No," Eric answered quickly. "I am saying none of those things! What I _am_ saying is that after the severing spell, you can choose, Sookie. I'm saying that you don't have to come with me. You can heal and then do as you wish." He sat forward, taking her hand again. "What I am saying is that the spell no longer comes with strings attached. What I'm saying is that I will _not_ be like Bill. I will _not_ take your choice or your control away from you. I will _not_ force you to face Russell with me as a condition of helping you to free yourself from Bill."

Sookie gripped his hand in stunned silence, her mouth slightly agape. After a few moments, she brushed away a tear and spoke softly. "When I was trapped in that dream, I felt so out of control. I would have done _anything_ to get to Bill. I would have killed you—without a second thought—because I thought you were trying to keep me from him."

She paused and wiped away another tear, but her voice was stronger as she went on. "And you were, Eric! You were trying to keep me from him!" She shook her head and squeezed his hand harder. "You helped me escape from the dream. You didn't have to. You are helping me break the blood tie with him. And you don't have to do that either. Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me choose whether to help you with Russell."

She sat up a little straighter as resolve entered her eyes. "I want to help you, Eric. I want to help you in order to pay you back for saving me from the monster who sent me that dream—the monster whom I thought that I loved. I want to help you because you've been honest with me—from the start—even when the truth was ugly. I want to help you because I trust you. And—honestly—I want to help you because I think I have a better chance of surviving all this if I'm with you. And—finally—I want to be there when Russell and Bill get their comeuppance for all the evil that they've done. I know that probably makes me a bad Christian. But I can't help it. They both deserve it! So—I guess what I'm sayin' is that we're in this together—until the end."

Eric's fangs popped down, and the intensity in his eyes danced brighter than the flame in the fireplace. "I would very much like to rip your clothes off and fuck you right now, Sookie Stackhouse. Will you let me?"

"Eric," she whispered, her own eyes glazing over with intensity as she squeezed his hand impossibly tighter in order to steady herself. "I can't."

He closed his eyes and seemed to be panting for a moment. When he reopened his orbs, the storm in them was all but gone and his fangs had retracted. "Pity," he said.

"I thought we agreed that you weren't gonna try to seduce me," she said as she finally withdrew her hand from his.

He smirked. "Well—I figured that since our deal was being restructured, I might try to renegotiate that part too."

She smiled. "You're incorrigible."

"Perhaps. But when you speak of seeing our enemies perish, you are," he paused, "almost too tempting to resist."

She took a deep breath. "So," she said, obviously changing the subject to a 'safer' topic, "have you told me everything?" she asked. "Everything about the dreams?"

"Yes," he responded. "More than you should know. More than even most vampires know."

"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

"And thank you for trusting me enough to throw your lot in with mine—voluntarily," he returned sincerely. "I will try not to fail you again."

"You didn't fail me, Eric. You saved me—and not just my life."

He got up and tended to the fire once more, returning to the couch with a bottle of water. "You should drink this and eat more soon."

"Soon," she agreed, "but first—there's something else I need to ask you."

"Ask," he said.

"Last night, you told me that you'd sent me two dreams. They were the passive kind—right?"

Eric nodded. "Yes. I sent them the first two days after you had my blood."

"And your goal? You didn't tell me last night."

"To increase your attraction for me," he stated unapologetically. "You will have to tell me what came of those dreams."

She sighed. "What if I'd rather not?"

"Then I will assume that we had rounds and rounds of mind-blowing sex in them," he said as his familiar leer returned to his face.

"We didn't," she said simply.

"Then I am curious to hear of them. Perhaps you will decide to tell me at some point. As I said, I have not given many humans my blood, and I am interested in the process—at least to a certain extent. I sent a couple of dreams to Lafayette too—to try to increase his fear of me."

"Lafayette has had your blood?" Sookie asked, the surprise clear in her tone.

Eric nodded. "Yes. From the gunshot wound he received at Fangtasia, he had an infection that may have killed him. Plus," he paused, "I needed to make sure I could control him. He was selling V for me."

Sookie's eyes grew wide and accusatory. "What the fuck, Eric!" she reproached. "You tortured him for selling V, and then you had him do it for you?"

"Yes. I'm afraid that it came down to a question of death or dishonor for me," Eric responded. "My queen ordered me to sell vampire blood so that she could fill her coffers. If I had refused, she could have killed me for treason. I am a survivor," he continued unapologetically. "So, instead of dying, I chose to make myself a hypocrite. I forced your friend, Lafayette, to sell V for me only days after I almost killed him for doing the same. I have gone against all that Godric ever taught me about the sacredness of the blood. But I am alive."

Sookie shook her head. "Wasn't there someone above the queen you could have told? I mean—why not tell the AVL and Nan Flanagan?"

Eric scoffed. "The AVL is the public face of the vampire Authority in this country. I could have gone to them, but if I had, things would have likely been even worse for me."

"What do you mean?" Sookie asked.

"Sophie-Anne would have denied my accusations. Most likely, the Authority would have tortured me and killed me for treason. And trust me when I say that their methods of torture would have been far worse than anything Sophie-Anne could have come up with."

"What if you had given them proof that it was Sophie-Anne?"

"Then she would have been tortured and killed for selling the blood." He laughed ruefully. "I would have gotten off easy, probably only having to spend a decade or so in a silver-lined coffin as my punishment for betraying my monarch."

"They would have punished you anyway?" she asked incredulously.

Eric nodded. "Oh, yes!"

"Geez!"

The Viking chuckled. "Geez—indeed. When Sophie-Anne ordered me to sell the V, I really considered only three options: killing her so that I could take the monarchy by force, abdicating my position as sheriff and leaving the state, or selling the V. You know what I chose."

"Wait—if you'd killed Sophie-Anne, you would have become king? Wouldn't have the Authority just killed you then? That's like the ultimate betrayal!"

"Nope," Eric chuckled. "Killing a monarch and taking his or her throne by force is perfectly fine according to the Authority—as long as the vampire committing the regicide is deemed 'worthy' by them."

"How do you know you would have been seen as worthy?" Sookie asked.

"Simple," Eric answered with another chuckle. "I have the money required to buy the label."

Sookie was silent for a moment. "Vampire politics are so messed up," she finally said.

He smirked. "You don't even know the half of it. Russell might be stark-raving mad, but he's right about the corruption within the Authority. Of course, having him in charge would be even worse—unless you like insanity better than inanity."

They were silent for a few minutes as Sookie contemplated Eric's words and the fire. "You said that you sent Lafayette a dream to make him more afraid of you. Why?"

Eric sighed. "Lafayette was willing to sell the V for me, but I needed it moved faster. I knew that his fear of me would," he paused, "motivate him." The vampire ran his hand through his hair. "I sensed that Sophie-Anne was up to something when she suddenly doubled the amount of V she wanted me to sell. Meanwhile, the Magister showed up at Fangtasia because the Authority had become suspicious about the increase of V sales in the area. And guess who made sure he had an _anonymous_ tip pointing right to me?"

"Sophie-Anne?" Sookie stated as much as asked.

"Bingo! The Magister found a stash of V—which conveniently showed up at Fangtasia after a visit from the queen. He took Pam into custody and began to torture her. She told him that Bill was the one who was responsible for the V sales. If she had told him it was the queen, he _might_ have believed her, but he would have also immediately killed her. I went along with Pam's story to buy us some time, but the Magister ordered me to bring him Bill within three days' time—or else he would kill Pam."

"That's why you were in Mississippi!"

Eric nodded in confirmation. "Meanwhile, Russell had been told about the queen's V-selling enterprise by Bill. And Russell decided to use that information to blackmail Sophie-Anne into marrying him."

"Wait," Sookie interrupted. "Isn't Russell gay?"

Eric chuckled. "Vampire kings and queens rarely marry for anything other than political gain. Russell is delusional and ambitious, and having Louisiana increases his territory and his income. He eventually wants to take over the whole fucking country and replace the Authority."

"Wouldn't they stop him?"

Eric shrugged. "Russell is three thousand years old. And his work is behind the scenes. Think about it; I have lived only one state away from him for decades, yet the first time I met him—and certainly the first time I ever learned anything about his Weres or his plans—was only days ago. Given Russell's policy of isolationism, the Authority likely knows nothing of his schemes. And, given his age, they'd probably prefer that it stayed that way!"

"Which means he can do whatever he wants," Sookie observed.

"Yes—and that includes quietly recruiting others."

"So that's what you were doin'—pretending to be recruited?"

"Partially. Initially, I swore my fealty to Russell because I figured he was a better short-term option for me than Sophie-Anne. He also promised to help me save Pam—though he refused to hand over Bill to me. It was not long after that that I realized that Russell was the creature who had been responsible for my human family's deaths. In fact, I found out that information _exactly_ seven minutes and twelve seconds before you were brought into Russell's mansion."

Sookie sighed deeply. "No wonder you were such an asshole to me."

Eric couldn't help but to smile. "We are both lucky that I had enough control not to try to attack Russell that night. I wanted to fight him more than I have ever wanted anything—except maybe one thing." Eric looked at Sookie significantly.

"You can't want to have sex with me that much," she said sarcastically.

Eric shook his head and grinned almost boyishly. "You are right. I want to kill Russell more than I want to have sex with you, but," he paused dramatically, "having sex with you _is_ a close second."

Sookie rolled her eyes and then took a deep breath to refocus herself. She wanted, no needed, to ask him something more about the dream Bill had sent her—something that she'd been afraid to ask before.

"Would have Bill known that the dream he weaved would affect me that much?" she asked.

Eric sighed and looked back at the fire as a somber mood once more filled the room. "All that I can say is that a vampire does not weave a dream by accident. It is a developed skill and requires a concerted effort on the part of the weaver. And it was extremely difficult for me to free you from the state you were in."

"So you're saying that Bill knew _exactly_ what he was doing when he sent that dream. You're saying that the strength of the dream proves that this is something he's done before."

"I cannot say either of those things with one hundred percent certainty," Eric said cautiously. "But I believe them to be true nonetheless."

Sookie sighed. "Bill sent terror to drive my dream today," she said quietly as she stared back into the fire. "I'd _never_ felt so afraid—not even when Rene was trying to kill me, not even when I found Gran dead in the kitchen."

Unconsciously, she reached for Eric's hand again, and without thought, he covered hers with his own.

"I was afraid of you too," she continued. "I was afraid of Russell. I was afraid of Bill dying. I couldn't do anything else but to drive to where I thought he was. And in my dream, he said he was at Fangtasia. Do you think he was really there?"

Eric shrugged. "It is possible. If my blood succeeded in blocking his, Bill would have needed to regroup after the hospital, and going to Fangtasia to look for me would have seemed logical to him."

"What about _after_ you stopped the dream? Do you think he was able to track us? Before we got back here to the house?"

"His blood did try to reach for him," Eric replied honestly. "Whether it succeeded or not, I know not."

"But you tried to block him again?"

"Yes. But, as I said earlier, I haven't had much practice controlling my blood in a human." He closed his eyes. "However, I can sense every single drop of my blood inside of you—even now. When you were in the hospital, I could sense how close you were to death, and my blood within you called to me. And after I gave you more, I could feel all of those drops inside of you as well. I could even control where my blood went and where it healed you first."

Sookie squeezed his hand as he reopened his eyes.

"Wow—that's amazing!" She smiled a little. "Thanks again—for the healing."

Eric nodded and smirked. "You're welcome—again."

"So—I have another question."

"_Another_?" he said sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. "It's important."

"Proceed," he said jokingly.

She shook her head. "So—if your blood can block his and if this house can block him from being able to find me, then how was Bill able to influence my dreams at all?"

"Dreams are unique, Sookie. They are not affected by distance like the other elements of a blood tie are, nor can they be stopped by any known witch's spell. And Bill's vampire gifts seem to be tied up in his ability to influence humans. He is—as I said before—well known for his skill in glamouring." He shook his head a little. "After I started thinking about it more, I realized that dream-weaving is akin to glamouring. Thus, I really _should_ have anticipated that he may have had that skill. I," he paused, "regret leaving you vulnerable."

"Was that an apology?" she asked, the surprise clear in her tone.

"A regret and an apology are two different things," he replied stiffly.

"Clearly," she intoned.

Eric looked back at the fire. "As I was saying, Bill likely regrouped. If he couldn't pinpoint your location with the blood tie, which would have been impossible once we were inside the spell of the Vicksburg house, then he might have returned to his home or to your home. If so, Russell likely captured him. Or—more likely—Bill went straight to Fangtasia to demand that I 'release you.'" He lifted his free hand to do an air quote, the sight of which almost made Sookie laugh out loud despite the seriousness of the topic. However, she sobered quickly at his next words.

"Maybe," Eric posited, "Russell tortured him and forced him to weave a dream."

"How would Russell have known that Bill had that ability?" Sookie asked. "Lorena," she said quickly, answering her own question.

Eric nodded. "Yes."

"But you said that dream weaving takes great effort. Could Bill have even done it if he were being tortured?"

Eric closed his eyes. "I don't know. I don't think so. But . . . ." He stopped midsentence.

"But?"

"But I know you still have love for Bill; I can feel that. So I want you to know that there is a possibility that he didn't intend for you to go through what you went through today. However unlikely, it _is_ possible, little one."

Sookie sighed. "I'd never been in love with a man before Bill. This morning—when I was driving here from Vicksburg, _before_ I had that dream—I thought about my relationship with him. Every start and every stop. Every fight. Every time he hurt me or lied to me or scared me—even beyond what he did for the queen or what he did in Alcide's truck." She shook her head. "Did you know that I met Malcolm and his nest-mates at Bill's house one night?"

"No," Eric said stiffly, his jaw clenched. "I did _not_ know that."

"I went over to Bill's because I'd contacted an electrician for him that day—someone who'd done some work for Gran before. I'd vouched for Bill so that the electrician would be willin' to work for a vampire. I'd been excited to tell him the news."

"But you encountered Malcolm, Liam, and Diane."

Sookie nodded. "Yes. They were," she paused, "disgusting—and frightening. They started," she paused again and closed her eyes, "touching me—pawing me—and threatening to bite me. And Bill just sat there most of the time—like some sinister overseer—in the corner of the room."

"Did he not stop them?" Eric asked with barely controlled rage, though his grip on her hand remained gentle.

"Eventually," Sookie whispered. "But not before Liam pulled me against him; he rubbed his—uh . . . ." Sookie glanced nervously down toward Eric's lap. "He rubbed his thing against me," she said with a cringe.

Eric growled a little.

Sookie took a deep breath. "But Bill didn't stop him—didn't stop them—until Diane was about to bite me; that's when Bill said that I was _his_."

"Which is why you agreed to those words at Fangtasia? You thought that if you didn't, you'd be manhandled by thuggish vampires," Eric seethed.

Sookie nodded in confirmation. "By the time I'd left Bill's house after he'd let Diane and Liam," she paused, "touch me like that, I had already decided that I couldn't be with him. I'd wanted the kind Southern gentleman who'd charmed my gran and who'd helped me with my mental shields—the one who'd saved my life and taken a walk with me. The vampire I met that night was _not_ the same." She shook her head. "But by the next night, I'd forgiven him. It was as if all the fear and anger I'd felt the night before had vanished." She closed her eyes. "Now I know that it was Bill's blood, taking those feelings—_my_ feelings—away." She opened her eyes and looked into Eric's. "And there were so many other moments that made me question Bill. But—every time—I stopped questioning after only a little while."

"His blood," Eric said.

Sookie shrugged. "That's part of it. But it was also me. I wanted love so badly that I tricked myself into feeling it, just as much as Bill tricked me. And—if I still feel love for him at all—it's _only_ because it's hard to let go of the," she paused, "hope it gave me."

"I have never found love that brought hope with it," Eric observed quietly.

Sookie sighed. "As it turns out, I haven't either."

* * *

**A/N: Okay—so this chapter ended up longer than I thought it would. LOL. But Sookie and Eric have a lot of information to cover here. Again—this is not a Sookie questioning her choice to not be with Bill. This is a Sookie wanting to be informed about the things that have been affecting her life. I think it's healthy to question things like that—if, for no other reason, than to prevent making similar mistakes again. I hope you do too. **

**Thanks SO MUCH for all the reviews for the last chapter! Your support and love of this story continues to floor me!**

**I'll try to get you another chapter this week, but no promises.**

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**Don't forget to check out the visuals by Sephrenia on my WordPress site. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	18. Chapter 18: Did You Resist

**Chapter 18: Did You Resist**

"_**I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage."—Friedrich Nietzsche**_

_ "And there were so many other moments that made me question Bill. But—every time—I stopped questioning after only a little while."_

_ "His blood," Eric said._

_ Sookie shrugged. "That's part of it. But it was also me. I wanted love so badly that I tricked myself into feeling it, just as much as Bill tricked me. And—if I still feel love for him at all—it's only because it's hard to let go of the," she paused, "hope it gave me." _

_ "I have never found love that brought hope with it," Eric observed quietly._

_ Sookie sighed. "As it turns out, I haven't either." _

Sookie and Eric were silent for a few moments. They looked at the fire, and both became aware that their hands were still firmly together—their fingers interlaced, the pressure comfortable and comforting. Neither of them pulled away.

"Could I have resisted it? The dream?" Sookie finally asked, her voice barely audible. "Could I have prevented it?"

"There was no preventing it, but I believe that you _did_ resist it," Eric said confidently—almost proudly.

"What makes you say that?" she asked.

"Did you kill me as soon as you saw me in your dream?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Sookie shook her head. "No. As I already told you, the dream was set at Fangtasia, but—at first—no one was there but me. I actually kind of—um—wished that you were there with me since the empty club was so creepy."

"That is quite the admission coming from your lips," Eric smirked. "Will you tell me what else happened?"

Sookie shivered a little, but then nodded in agreement. "Well. Like I said, the club was deserted and eerie. I walked toward your throne, but you weren't there. Then you spoke from behind me. I turned around, and you were sitting on a second throne, a mirror image of the first. And then—when I turned back around—Bill was sitting on your throne. At that point, I was about halfway between y'all."

"Bill sat in my throne?" Eric asked with mock indignation.

"Ha. Ha," Sookie responded, smiling a little and thankful that Eric had lightened the mood. She squeezed his hand.

"What then?" Eric asked as he caressed the valley between Sookie's thumb and forefinger with his own thumb. The motion comforted her.

"I started to feel more afraid, and then silver chains appeared around Bill." She trembled. "Bill begged me to come for him and said Russell would kill him otherwise. He blamed you for everything and told me that you lied about the file and the queen sending him."

"And you believed him?"

"I was just so scared that Bill was gonna die, and in the dream, I felt like my heart would be ripped in two if he did die. So—yes—I believed him. Or, at least, I came to believe him as the dream went on."

"But you questioned him—at first?" Eric pushed.

Sookie nodded. "Yeah. I asked about the file and the queen when he said I couldn't trust you."

"So," the Viking said almost triumphantly, "you _did_ resist."

"Maybe," she relented. "I felt like I couldn't move or get to Bill, and he told me that you were holding me back—keeping me from moving."

Eric contemplated. "That must have been my blood trying to hinder the dream."

"It was trying to protect me, Eric. You must have sent it to protect me."

"Perhaps," Eric said, looking suddenly a little uncomfortable. "Since you were driving from Vicksburg to here, I would have been concerned for both of our safeties when I fell into my day-sleep yesterday morning, which is why I unintentionally imprinted the dream." He paused for a moment. "What happened when you realized you couldn't move toward Bill."

Sookie scrunched her eyebrows together as she recalled the details of the dream. "I kept asking you to let me lose, but you wouldn't. But then I finally figured out that I _could_ move toward you."

"Ah—so you discovered that I'd left you a piece of chalk and you used it to draw a stake with my name on it," Eric said with amusement.

"I can't believe you think that's funny," Sookie scoffed. "But—yeah—that's pretty much what happened. In the dream, Bill convinced me that I had to kill you in order to get to him. And then suddenly there was a stake. So I went over to you, and I tried to kill you."

"Tried?" Eric asked, his curiosity rising.

"Yeah. At first I couldn't do it. You caught my wrist and stopped me."

"Interesting," Eric commented. "And unexpected. My blood must have worked better than I thought." He looked prideful.

"What?" he asked when he caught her rolling her eyes. "I am glad that my blood was tenacious. And you should be too," he pouted a little. "It was trying to protect _you_, after all."

She smiled a little and spoke sincerely, squeezing his hand once more. "I _am_ thankful, Eric. Really, I am."

"How did you finally kill me?" he asked, squeezing back a little, but obviously being careful not to apply too much pressure.

"I _asked_ you to let me kill you," she said, blushing a little.

He laughed heartily. "You asked me?"

"Yeah. And you said that your blood could not deny me. And then suddenly I was able to stake you; after that, you disappeared."

"Erased," he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

She nodded. "The weird thing is that you _had_ been denying me things up to that point. I kept on asking you to let me go so that I could get to Bill, but you didn't let me."

Eric's grin could have rivaled the Cheshire Cat's.

"What?" she asked.

"_You_ must have been resisting him _yourself_ then; otherwise, had you truly desired it, I would have disappeared when you first asked. Obviously, you were helping my blood."

She looked skeptical. "Maybe."

"There is no maybe about it," the Viking said confidently. "The length of your resistance to him in the dream tells me that you fought him harder than most people could have. The fact that I didn't just disappear or immediately obey you in the dream tells me the same thing. Moreover, you did nothing to contact Bill or someone else to help you get to him, as your fear _should_ have driven you to do."

"No. I just got into the car—_with you in it_—and sped toward Fangtasia with a head wound, skinned knees, soiled pants, and a stake ready to kill you when you woke up," she said sarcastically.

"Indeed," Eric returned nonchalantly, though his eyes sparkled playfully. "You are right. It _could_ have been much worse."

She shook her head and chuckled at him. "You're an ass—you know that?"

"Actually, I am the _King_ Ass, according to Pam."

Sookie giggled.

"Truly," Eric said sincerely, as his eyes continued to dance. "Pam even believes that I inspired the role of Bottom in Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream_."

Sookie snorted a little as she continued to laugh.

"Actually, that's not a bad bray," Eric intoned, his expression still seemingly serious. "With more practice, you might well make a fine ass too."

Sookie laughed for a few moments more before her expression became serious again. "So—we are _sure_ that Bill couldn't have found out where we are from my dream?"

"We are sure," Eric said confidently. "Remember—to send a woven dream, a vampire must be about to die for the day. Plus, even the greatest weavers in vampire history have not experienced the dreams with their victims. Bill may be good at glamour and a powerful dream weaver—well beyond what his age would suggest—but he will not be able to find us through that dream."

"Okay," Sookie said, obviously reassured.

Eric squeezed her hand a little.

"Is Bill better at glamouring than you?" she asked with a slightly mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hmm. I do not think he could be," Eric commented. "He is certainly better than I was at his age, but my skill has increased over time. _That_ skill—I _have_ practiced a lot."

Sookie giggled a little.

But," Eric shrugged, "he could be." He looked at Sookie with scrutiny as his eyebrow arched playfully. "You tell me."

"How would I know?" she asked.

"You are, I believe, the only human to ever resist my glamour. I assume you resisted his as well?"

She nodded.

"Then _you_ are in a unique situation, little one. You can say which of our glamouring was more difficult to resist."

"Did you give it your best shot?" she asked sassily.

He smirked. "I did."

"Does distance matter? Bill was nearer when he tried to do it."

"No," Eric responded. "I had established eye contact with you, so distance shouldn't have mattered."

"What was your glamour tryin' to get me to do?"

"Leave Bill and come with me to my office so that I could fuck you," he answered immodestly.

Her skin flushed red, and she jerked her hand away from his, though she immediately missed the comfort his touch had been giving her.

"You are a—uh—cad!" she yelled.

He grinned. "I have not heard myself called _that_ name in a while."

"Well—you are!"

"So?"

"So what?"

"Whose glamour was stronger?" Eric asked puckishly.

"You don't need your ego stoked."

"Ah—so it _was_ mine," Eric grinned. "That is good to know. Speaking of stoking," he said suggestively as he leaned in toward her. Right as she put up her hands to keep him at bay, he got up, chuckling as he did. He moved to stoke the fire as he gave her a playful look over his shoulder.

Sookie rolled her eyes once more, even as she tried to control the rise in her libido that his closeness had triggered. Bill had _definitely_ been right about _that_ being a side-effect of a tie.

The two were quiet for a few minutes after Eric rejoined her on the couch.

"Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Did Bill try to influence my dreams again when I was sleeping on the way here earlier tonight? He would have been awake by then. And even if he couldn't track me because you'd blocked him, he could have felt that I was sleeping—right?"

The Viking sighed. "Yes. While we were in the car, his blood inside of you did try to compel you to dream. And he was trying to track you too."

"But you stopped him?"

"I was able to stop him from invading your dreams—yes. But his blood continued to attempt to connect to him until we were inside the property line here. Then that stopped."

"But he kept tryin' to get into my dreams?"

Eric nodded and looked back toward the fire. "Yes. In fact, after we got here, his blood tried even harder to infiltrate your dreams," he said quietly.

"So _you_ worked even harder to stop him?" Sookie asked.

"You needed a restful sleep," Eric responded, once more looking a little uncomfortable. "I am not sure whether I was able to prevent him from being in your dreams again, but at least I knew that my efforts would prevent your dreams from becoming too disturbing. Plus, your heart rate never rose above a normal rate, so I figured I was keeping him out; otherwise, I would have awoken you—as I promised."

"Thank you. He wasn't there," Sookie offered. "He wasn't in my dream."

"Good," Eric said.

"_You_ were there, Eric," she said quietly.

"What was I doing?" he asked with curiosity.

"You were watching over me—just watching over me as I slept."

* * *

Sookie and Eric had been quiet for a while. Octavia would be arriving in about two hours, and the two had been content to watch the fire in silence until Sookie got up to fix herself a small meal. Eric had looked pleased when she returned with it.

"Do you mind?" she asked, lifting up her plate a little.

"Mind what?"

"My eating in front of you. It always bothered Bill."

"It does not bother me," Eric assured.

"I don't think he liked the smell," she said a little nervously.

"Or he was envious," Eric posited. "Many young vampires miss eating human food."

"Not you?"

"Smell and taste are closely related," Eric mused. "I enjoy smelling many foods, though some things I could live without—such as the sandwich you had in the car."

"Sorry."

He shrugged. "It is of little concern—though I did throw it from the window after you fell asleep."

She giggled and dug in to her meal.

* * *

After Sookie finished eating, Eric rose to go get the bag of things he'd gotten from the drug store.

"What's this?" she asked, as he handed her the bag.

"Another choice," he chuckled.

From the bag she pulled out a few paperbacks and two boxes of hair dye. She looked at Eric in question.

"I saw a mystery novel on your coffee table the night I killed the Were in your home, and there are no books in the house. Octavia's apprentice will be caring for you when you are ill and can pick up others for you; however, these will get you started—if you feel up to reading, that is."

She nodded. "And these?"

"Your choice," he said with a grin. "Red or brown. I need to take a few pictures of you for your new identification pictures before Octavia begins the spell, and your blond hair is easily recognizable." He paused and spoke in a lower tone. "It is like spun gold."

Her eyebrows scrunched together a little at his compliment, but she didn't comment on it. With a resigned sigh, she picked up one of the boxes and read the directions. She stood up. "I'll see you in about forty minutes—it seems."

He nodded and trailed her with his eyes as she left the room.

Eric didn't much care for the idea of her hair color not being natural; however, it was safer to change it. After they left Slidell, she would have to be visible during the day at times. And her blond locks were too distinctive—too noticeable.

He reached onto the coffee table and picked up one of the books without looking at the title. His vampire speed made him a very fast reader, but he paced himself, hoping to occupy his time for the forty minutes Sookie would be gone. He had the book finished within ten minutes of her return and hoped that the formulaic plot was more satisfying to her. He wondered if Sookie would enjoy some of the books he had been most drawn to over the years and composed a short list for Octavia to bring to them. Even if Sookie didn't care to read them, they would give him something to do when he was trying to relax his mind.

In truth, Eric's mind had not relaxed much during the last several days—weeks even. Finally, however, things had slowed down enough for the Viking to assess his situation and begin the foundations of a plan that would lead to the defeat of his three-thousand-year-old enemy.

Eric thought about the pieces he had moving onto the chess board already.

Even at that very moment, Pam was getting further and further away, which meant that she had been successful in her escape. He figured that she was near St. Joseph, Missouri, which was the second stop along her route to Wyoming. He had no doubt that his child would find sanctuary with Thalia and Bubba. He'd send a quick text to the vampire queen of Wyoming—requesting her aid—as Sookie had eaten. Thalia was antisocial, and Eric had no doubt that his progeny would be miserable in Wyoming—with no one around to enjoy her snarkiness—but he also knew that she would be safe there, for no one knew of his connection to Thalia.

Eric figured that Russell—by now—would have connected the dots he needed to realize that the young Viking boy he'd once left alive had become his new enemy. And—even if the ancient monarch had not yet made the necessary connections—Eric's not showing up in Jackson would have signaled one of two things: that Eric either ran or was killed. Russell would—no doubt—be trying to locate Pam by now, and her absence would point to the fact that it had been the former.

All the vampires of Area 5 would be questioned about Eric's and Pam's whereabouts, but none would be able to give any relevant information except for Chow, who knew of one of Eric's "safer" safe houses in the Shreveport area. There, Russell would find deeds to some of Eric's least favorite properties and businesses, all of which had been purchased by glamoured humans and none of which Eric really cared about.

Unfortunately, Chow also knew the combination to Fangtasia's safe; thus, Russell would soon become aware of Eric's fascination with the woman currently shutting off the faucet in the bathroom upstairs.

Eric sighed, hoping that the king would conclude that he was obsessed with Sookie Stackhouse in the same way that Bill Compton was.

The information about the safe house and the safe, however, would likely save Chow's life and give Russell some things to investigate for a while. By far, Franklin Mott was Russell's best asset for finding out information. In all honesty, Eric hoped that the crazed vampire would be so busy pursuing Tara Thornton that he didn't have time to try to follow Eric's tracks. Ideally, Tara would kill Mott and eliminate that threat altogether.

Eric still had no clear idea of how to take down Russell, but now he had some time. And—if there was one thing that Godric had finally instilled within him—it was patience. Unlike before—when he and Godric had been posing as SS officers—Eric would _not_ act rashly. He would carefully line up as many pieces as possible before acting decisively.

Something within him—call it instinct or a gut feeling—told him that Sookie would be one of the key pieces once the time for his revenge came. However, he wouldn't know more about her capabilities until Brigant contacted him, and that might take a while, given the disparities between time in the Fae realm versus time in the human realm. He once again contemplated whether or not to tell Sookie that she was part fairy, but once more he decided that it would be best to wait—at least until she'd recovered from the severing spell.

And—while she recovered—he would begin planning in earnest.

Yes—he'd ceded his area out of necessity and he'd sent his child away from him, but those things had left him with fewer immediate worries. And now he had to worry about only himself and Sookie, and he was confident that Sookie would prove to be an excellent partner once she shed her self-doubts. He hoped that the severing spell would help her take a step in that direction.

Regardless, her presence gave him a bonus that he'd not expected: a sense of connectedness. Pam presence, too, always gave him a similar feeling to this, but having Sookie with him was preferable in many ways. She could operate during the day. She had her gift of telepathy to help protect them. And she would one day—Eric hoped—learn how to better use her other Fae gift or gifts.

Indeed, even though a three-thousand-year-old vampire was likely hunting him even them—and bent on his torture and ultimate destruction—Eric found that he felt better than he had at the beginning of the previous night. At least his progeny was not being tortured. At least he no longer had to act like a good little lapdog to Russell. At least he no longer had to listen to the incessant prattling of Sophie-Anne. At least Sookie was not at death's door.

All in all, it had been a successful thirty hours—despite the horror of Sookie's dream. However, even that had offered a silver lining, for it had shown Sookie the truth about Bill Compton in a way that no words could ever reveal.

Sookie cleared her throat in the entryway to the living room. Eric turned toward her and saw that she had an uncertain look on her face; she was also shifting on her feet a little.

"Well?" she asked.

Eric had already risen by the time she'd spoken; he walked slowly toward the living room's entrance until he was directly in front of her. Her hair was now chocolate brown, even darker than her eyes. And she was lovely.

Different—but lovely.

"You look less innocent," he observed.

She rolled her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then you need to work on your compliments," she deadpanned.

"You look just as beautiful as you always have."

Her breath caught and she blushed. "That works."

He looked at her questioningly before running his fingers through her hair. It was still slightly damp, though she'd obviously blow dried it a little. Despite the dying agents, it was softer than he'd dared to imagine, and it still smelled slightly of the sun that she loved.

His eyes did not leave hers, despite the fact that she licked her lips.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said, hardly recognizing his own voice.

She leaned up a little, her own eyes moving to his lips. "I want to kiss you, Eric."

"I feel that _very_ clearly, Sookie," the vampire said, his voice laced with his own desire to do the same.

"Why do I want to kiss you?" she asked in almost a whimper.

"My blood in you has linked to some of your blood."

"Did you make that happen? Are you messin' with my hormones and stuff?" she asked, though her tone held no accusation. Her eyes were still on his mouth.

His lips quirked into a small, though sincere, smile. "No and no. The blood sometimes has a mind of its own, and it is reacting to my own attraction for you. I would apologize if I were sorry. But I am not."

"I have a feeling that you never apologize to anyone," she said, inching closer to him.

"Sookie," he asked gruffly, "why do _you_ want to kiss me?"

"I'm not sure," she said, leaning toward him even more.

With that, Eric zipped across the room, causing her newly brown hair to blow in his wake. She was momentarily stunned and speechless.

"Thanks," she finally said as her face reddened even more.

"Do not mention it," he said, though his eyes were still glowing with passion.

"I really wish I could be sure that what I want right now is really what I want," she said.

"As do I," he panted, feeling his own blood boil even more because of the signs of her arousal: her uneven breaths, her amped up scent, her pebbling nipples. It was all he could do to stay still.

Her breath hitched as the sexual tension between them grew—his blood feeding her hormones and her own desires exciting his blood even more.

It took a knock at the door to break the spell.

* * *

**A/N: Rainy day + procrastination = chapter before scheduled**

**Thanks so much for all the comments for the last one! Most of you seem to be glad about Sookie and Eric finally having a series of real and open conversations. (Oh—if they'd only done that in the books!) Sookie is getting a lot out of these talks, but don't underestimate the value of them for Eric either. When was the last time he could truly be open to anyone? Godric? Pam? Yes and yes. But let me ask you this: when was the last time he could be open to someone he didn't have to maintain authority over (Pam) or someone that didn't have ultimate authority over him (Godric)? Sookie gives him something he's not had—maybe ever! I gotta give a shout-out to Nicolle1977 whose review reminded me that "Eric is always seeking connection whether he realizes it or not."**

**Next up? Who's at the door?**

**Until then,**

**Kat**

**Remember: pics by Sephrenia on my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	19. Chapter 19: A Clean Slate

**Chapter 19: A Clean Slate**

Magic seemed to travel in the door with Octavia Fant as she entered the house. Her jet black hair fell to her shoulders and complemented her chestnut skin. She was the kind of woman whose age was difficult to pin down—the kind with a timeless beauty and an eternal sparkle in her eyes. Only the wrinkles on her neck gave away the fact that she was likely closer to seventy than forty.

Octavia's eyes, which were almost as dark as her hair, immediately fell onto Sookie—studying her. Almost dissecting her.

Unconsciously, Sookie moved a step closer to Eric.

"I will not hurt you, child," Octavia said in an accent that seemed half-Cajun and half Jamaican. "Well," she corrected, "I suppose I _will_ be hurtin' you, but I don't want to—dat I promise."

Sookie nodded, but still took another step toward Eric before taking his hand. The vampire made no show of her action being unexpected as he twined his fingers with hers.

Octavia had been trailed in by a petite brunette who was carrying several large bags and who seemed to be bursting at the seams with energy and excitement.

"Hi," the young woman said in a bubbly voice as she shifted her bags to one hand and held out her other toward Sookie.

Sookie took it somewhat tentatively. "Hi, she returned.

"I'm Amelia," the young witch said brightly. "I don't think I'm supposed to tell you my last name, and I'm not supposed to know your name at all." She shrugged. "But I gotta call you somethin' since I'll be stayin' with you during the days till you recover. So what'll it be?"

Sookie looked up at Eric in order to find out what name she should use. But before she could ask, she saw that he had already caught Amelia's eye. Faster than Sookie could have imagined was possible, she felt the young witch's mind stop its very loud broadcasting as she fell under the influence of Eric's glamour.

"You may call her Sookie while you are in this house," Eric said in the alluring tone that vampires used when they were glamouring someone. "But out of this house, you will think of her as," he paused.

"Her friend Maggie," Sookie interrupted with a whisper, though she knew that Eric could easily hear her.

"Your friend Maggie," Eric said as he looked back at Amelia. "Your friend has been ill and you are caring for her. However, there is no need to mention even that to anyone—is there?"

"No," Amelia said, her voice trancelike.

"When you leave this home, you will not remember that there is a vampire here, Amelia, nor will you be able to tell people the address. You will not even remember that you performed magic here; however, when you are here, you will remember me and Sookie and your purpose here. You may address me as Eric."

The young witch nodded as Eric released her from his glamour.

"Nice to meet you, Eric and Sookie," Amelia smiled as if nothing had happened.

Octavia gave Eric a little nod and then went into the living room with Amelia in tow.

"Why Maggie?" Eric asked Sookie once the witches had left the home's small foyer.

"Amelia's first thought when she walked in the door was that I looked a little like her friend Maggie from high school."

Eric looked down at Sookie and smiled. "You think with strategy, little one. It is always good to build glamour around a kernel of reality."

Sookie smiled at the unexpected compliment and gestured toward the door of the living room. "She's the loudest thinker I've ever heard," she whispered to Eric.

"Octavia?" the vampire asked.

Sookie shook her head. "No—I can pick up only a weird buzz from her. Amelia's the loud one." Her face suddenly reddened.

"What?" Eric asked curiously.

Sookie shook her head. "Amelia's tryin' to figure out which one of us she'd rather sleep with."

Eric's booming laughter suddenly filled the space. "Well?" he asked. "Who is in the lead in the witch's thoughts?"

Sookie shook her head. "You're gettin' your ass kicked, vampire," she said jokingly.

Before Eric could respond, the topic of their conversation poked her head back into the foyer.

"Octavia needs y'all for a minute," Amelia said with a smile.

Eric winked at Sookie before leading her into the living room.

"I'll need all of dis furniture moved out of dee room," Octavia instructed Eric. "And dis too," she added, pointing down at the large area rug which covered much of the wooden floor.

Eric looked down at Sookie and squeezed her hand, causing her to realize that it was still linked with his. She blushed and pulled it away when she saw that Octavia was looking at their joined hands too.

"Drink dis, child," Octavia instructed as she handed Sookie a large thermos.

"What is it?" Sookie asked.

"'Tis a lot of tings," the witch said enigmatically. "And 'tis needed, so drink."

Sookie looked up at Eric, who nodded.

"Do I have to drink it all at once?" Sookie asked, somewhat daunted by the size of the container.

"Not all in one gulp," Octavia chuckled, "but drink quickly."

Sookie nodded, took a deep breath, and opened the cap.

Eric had removed all of the living room furniture—including the couch, two end tables, a coffee table, two floor lamps, the area rug, and an entertainment center and television—before Sookie swallowed the last drop of the bitter mixture.

Sookie handed the empty thermos to Octavia, who gave her a pointed stare. "Has dee vampire told you of dee pain that you will face dis day? You will suffer _much_ and be sick for many days to come. Are you prepared for dis?"

Sookie gulped, but nodded.

"You _must_ be sure of dee risk. 'Tis no easy ting to remove dee ties of two vampires from a human, child," Octavia cautioned.

"Two?" Sookie asked. "But—uh—we're only gettin' rid of Bill—right?" Apprehensively, she looked over to where Eric stood.

"Ah," Octavia chuckled. "I see dee Viking is as he has always been. He is very careful with dee truths dat he tells." She gave Eric a pointed look. "And dee _half_-truths." She waved her hand. "I have work to do to prepare dis room. Take yourselves out of my way till dee sun is on dee horizon, and tell dis girl dee tings she needs to know—_all_ dee tings! After dat, I will conduct dee spell. Not before."

Eric nodded and moved to leave the living room.

"Vampire?" Octavia said.

Eric turned around to face her. "I will need your presence as much as hers if she is to survive dis day."

Eric nodded.

"Eric?" Sookie asked, looking up at him.

"Come," Eric said quietly, reaching out his hand for hers.

Without thought, she took it and followed him from the room.

* * *

Sookie did not speak to Eric until they were in her bedroom and the door was closed. Once there, she dropped his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me that the severing spell was gonna eliminate the ties with _both_ you and Bill?" she asked somewhat agitatedly.

"You didn't ask. But does it not stand to reason?" he responded. "A severing spell is indiscriminate, Sookie. It will burn _all_ the vampire blood from your body."

"So we won't have a tie anymore either," she said as she sat heavily onto the bed.

"No."

For the briefest of moments, Sookie thought she saw disappointment flicker into Eric's eyes, but—if so—it was gone almost as soon as it appeared.

"I'll have a clean slate," she mused quietly. There was hope in her brown eyes.

"As far as vampire blood in your body goes? Yes," Eric answered evenly.

"So I won't have to worry about whether I really feel what I feel or if it's from the blood," she added with a little smile.

"Your feelings will be your own," Eric stated. "Yet it would be better if you took my blood once the effects of the severing spell wear off. But this time," he paused, "it will be your decision."

A wider smile broke out onto Sookie's face as she more fully absorbed the fact that she'd soon be able to be sure of her own feelings again.

"I can see what your choice will be," Eric said, his expression conveying both disappointment and amusement.

"I'm sorry," Sookie said quickly, though she was still smiling a little. "It's not you, and I _will_ think about taking your blood again, but it'll be nice for it to just be 'me' for a while."

He shook his head. "You apologize for things that you shouldn't."

"And you never apologize, so we even out."

"True," he smirked.

"Eric," she asked with concern rising in her voice, "will it hurt more since two vampire ties are—uh—getting severed?"

He took a long, unnecessary breath. "Yes and no."

She arched her eyebrow in question.

"Yes―in that the process will take longer to complete because there are two ties and a lot of vampire blood to eliminate from your body. No—in that you will not feel the pain from the severing of your tie with me."

"Explain," Sookie said with her arms now crossed.

"I will be taking on that discomfort," Eric said simply. "I cannot take on the pain from the severing of your tie with Bill, but I will be able to take on the sting of my own blood being eradicated from your body."

Sookie stood quickly onto her feet. "But you said the vampire _wouldn't_ feel pain!" she insisted, trying to remember his exact words from the night before.

"I said that since the severing spell was occurring during the day, Bill would not know of it. I also said that the spell was painful for the human, rather than the vampire. However, that is because the vampire always initiates such a severing. Why would the vampire wish to feel pain when severing himself or herself from a human who is no longer wanted?"

"But you can _choose_ to take on the pain?" Sookie half-asked and half-accused.

"Yes. It _is_, after all, my blood," Eric said simply.

"But I'm havin' the spell done during the day," she reasoned. "You can't help but to be asleep."

"In a light-tight space, I will be perfectly capable of staying awake. I will develop what is called the 'bleeds' because I will be forcing myself to fight the sun, but that will be of little consequence to a vampire my age."

"No!" she yelled. "I can't let you do that! You shouldn't have to feel the pain of the tie breakin', not after your blood's saved my life—more than once!"

"Ah, Sookie, always the martyr," Eric intoned with a mixture of wonder and sarcasm. "You would sacrifice yourself to save even _me_ from pain?"

"Yes!" she said without hesitation.

"Are you sure that is not just my blood talking?" he smirked.

"Don't be a jackass, Eric."

His face grew serious. "I _must_ take on the pain, Sookie."

"No!" she said, standing up a little straighter. "I'll do it."

He shook his head. "I believe—and, more importantly, Octavia believes—that your body can handle a single severing, but a double severing is a different matter. And you have had _a lot_ of vampire blood, Sookie. Just last night, I gave you more than two and a half pints. And Bill has given you quite a bit too. Consider your last 120 days, Sookie. How much vampire blood is in your body?"

"But I almost bled to death," Sookie challenged. "Surely that got rid of some of it."

Eric shook his head again. "I can tell you one thing for certain, little one. When Bill almost drained you, _none_ of my blood that was in your body left it. Do you want to know why?"

Sookie shivered, but nodded.

"A vampire's blood will do all that it can to avoid an open wound," he said. "Whether it is there to heal or to monitor or to just," he paused, "hang out, a vampire's blood is not keen to leave its host."

"But—if it won't go toward wounds—then how does it heal humans?"

"The magic within vampire blood activates the healing systems of a human's body. And—as I said—an older vampire has some control over what is healed first. But the vampire blood will do all it can to keep itself nice and cozy—as far away from an open wound as possible."

A little defeated, Sookie sank back onto the bed. "So—uh—I still have _all_ that blood Bill gave me?"

Eric nodded and sat beside her, though about a foot away. "Yes. Because you have known Bill for fewer than four months—which is the approximate time a vampire's blood is alive inside of a human—we must assume that none of his blood has left you."

She shivered again. "I've had a lot of it."

"I know," Eric sighed. He grabbed the quilt off of the foot of the bed so that he could wrap her up in it.

"I'm not cold," she said quietly.

"Regardless, the blanket will help," he responded as he guided the cover around her.

"So," she said after a minute of quiet, "I'll die if you don't take on the pain of our blood tie severing?"

The Viking shrugged. "It is hard to know for sure. But, based on what I've told Octavia about the amount of blood you've had, she believes your chance of survival is less than ten percent if I don't help you. But—since I am going to help—she is almost certain that you will pull through, and I will be awake and ready to heal you if something does go wrong as Bill's blood is removed."

"You're _really_ willin' to take on all that pain for me," she said in disbelief. "Why?"

"You know why already."

"I'm an asset," she said somewhat ruefully.

"Yes," he answered simply.

"And you want my blood and want to—uh—have sex with me."

"Yes and yes," he smirked.

"You can," she said suddenly.

"Huh?" he asked inelegantly. "You want to have sex with me? Now?" he continued hopefully.

"Ugh," she sounded as she slapped his arm. "No! But I assume that my blood wouldn't leave you during the spell the same way yours will leave me—right?"

"You are correct," he answered. "A tie affects only vampire blood in the human. That is why a tie can be broken, while a bond cannot be. A bond is like a tie going two ways, and—once in place—the magic cannot be removed from the vampire. The bond magic entwines with the life force of the vampire, and can only be broken by the vampire's death. Of course, a bond breaking would kill the human too."

"So," Sookie said, "it stands to reason that if I gave you some of my blood now, it would help you to be stronger—so that you wouldn't feel so much pain during the severing."

Eric had stood up and was across the room before she could finish her sentence. He was panting a little.

"You are offering me your blood?" Eric asked.

"Why not?" she responded. "You want it—right? And, after all, you're offering to do a lot more for me."

"I can't," Eric said, his voice clearly agitated.

Sookie's voice now held frustration. "Why the hell not? I thought you said that _everything_ was about the blood."

"It is," he said simply. "I _want_ to drink from you. In fact, I want to drink from you very much, but I cannot. You are _not_ willing!"

"But it was my idea!" she insisted. "How is _that_ not willing?"

"You offer out of obligation," he said simply.

"Yeah. So what?" she asked.

"So," he said, his voice evening out again, "thank you, but I will decline."

"I don't like owing you, Eric," she confessed. "If you took my blood, I would feel like I owed you less."

He sighed. "You need your blood; plus, you will soon be protecting me every day."

She nodded, acknowledging his point. "But I don't like the idea of you having to stay awake all day. You'll get the bleeds, and then you'll be taking on my pain to boot!"

"Even if I was not taking on the pain of _our_ severing, I would have to stay awake and stay with you," Eric informed.

"Why?" she asked.

"The spell requires that you have someone you trust by your side, a helper of sorts."

"Do I trust you?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered simply, though there was a twinkle in his eye. "Inexplicably, but yes."

* * *

At Eric's insistence, Sookie had lain down to rest after their talk, though she was not able to sleep. About twenty minutes before dawn, he roused her and waited as she brushed her teeth and hair and took care of her human needs. After that, he had her stand next to the white wall of the room and snapped a few pictures of her with the camera on his phone before sending them off to Brady.

"I'm scared," Sookie said in a meek voice as they made their way down the stairs.

"I will be with you throughout the severing," he promised.

She stopped and looked up at him. "You confuse the hell out of me, Mr. Northman."

"Ah," he smirked, "it's all part of my evil plan, Miss Stackhouse." He winked and pretended of twirl the ends of a mustache. Then he extended his arm as if he were about to escort her to a fancy party.

She laughed a little and took it.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks so much for the wonderful comments on the last one. **

**Well—this is my last chapter on this story for the week. I'm gonna be switching back to **_**Touch the Flame**_** on Wednesday, and I have very busy workdays tomorrow and Tuesday. I hope you've enjoyed this "cycle's" chapters.**

**Next up: What in the world has Russell been up to, and how did he react when Bill couldn't ensnare Sookie? Did he follow Beatrix Kiddo's advice? **

**Until then,**

**Kat**

**Don't forget to check out the images on my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	20. Chapter 20: The Emperor's Soldiers

**Chapter 20: The Emperor's Soldiers**

_**[This scene begins one hour before sunset—the evening before the previous scene (approximately the same time that Eric woke up in the car with Sookie under the influence of the Bill's woven dream)]**_

Because of his age, Russell woke up about an hour before sundown; however—disappointingly—none of his Weres had seen any sign of Miss Stackhouse. Perhaps, Eric had traveled a long distance away from Shreveport, and Sookie was trying to make her way there even then. The king smiled.

That would be ideal.

However, it was also possible that Sookie had not slept that day, but—given the fact that Bill had almost drained her dry the day before—the king found it unlikely that she wouldn't need some rest, even if she had received a lot of Eric's blood. Perhaps the Viking had killed her—cut his losses. He sighed. He'd just have to wait until Bill woke up to tell him the state of Sookie Stackhouse.

Russell reconciled himself to the notion that the telepath would soon be out of Northman's hands—one way or another. The king was fully prepared to manipulate Bill into weaving dreams every morning—until the telepath came to them or died trying. Meanwhile, he would test Bill's tracking skills. Even if Eric had the ability to block the blood of the younger vampire, Bill would eventually be able to track Sookie—especially if Russell continued to feed him a "booster" of his own ancient blood each night.

Russell closed his eyes and gauged the time; it was still 50 minutes until sundown. The ancient vampire sighed. The problem with age was that no one seemed to be able to get up when he did!

Only after about 500 years of life were most vampires able to awaken before sunset. Hell—Talbot was over 700 years old, and he woke up only about ten or fifteen minutes before sunset, depending on whether the day had been cloudy. He sighed again, this time even louder. At around a thousand, Northman might awaken twenty or thirty minutes before sunset. However, young William would likely awaken only after the sun had drooped into the horizon—especially since he'd taxed himself so much by sending the woven dream.

Tired of brooding, Russell decided to spend his time productively by checking on some of his "soldiers" and taking steps to ensure that his beloved Talbot was more secure. After all, it was still possible that Northman might show up at the mansion, hoping to continue his ruse.

First, he contacted his new Alpha, Dane Mitchell, and ordered the tripling of Talbot's guards. He also learned that Dane had _creatively_ taken care of the "mess" that Bill had made with the campers he'd raped and drained. Dane had personally made sure that nothing would tie the site of the crime to Compton. Then the car that Bill had stolen had been wiped clean of physical evidence and left at Northman's "public" residence—the one he paid taxes on. Finally, Dane had anonymously contacted the human authorities, explaining that he'd seen the vampire who owned Fangtasia covered in blood and acting strangely in the area where the couple would surely be found. Dane had tasked some of his Weres to monitor the human police communications and was ready to pounce if the human authorities happened upon Northman.

Russell smiled. Dane was a little young to be the Alpha; however, he had demonstrated great aptitude. So far, he'd been well-pleased by the Were's performance.

After finishing his call with his Alpha, the king texted several of his best Were trackers. He ordered them to begin a thorough search of all of Northman's known residences, as well as the known residences of the Viking's progeny.

Next he called Bartlett Crowe, the king of Indiana, who was one of his closest allies and most loyal soldiers. Bartlett had been installed as king almost 80 years before—after a successful _coup d'état_ against the former monarch, a coup that Russell had helped to orchestrate and execute.

"Bart," Russell said as the Indiana king answered.

"My Lord," Bartlett responded respectfully. "Sundown is still ten minutes away here," he commented, "has something happened?"

"Nothing to interfere with our ultimate plans, but there is a nuisance on the loose."

"How can I be of service?"

Russell grinned. The thing he liked most about Bart was his dependability. Despite being around 700 years old and powerful in his own right, Bart was the prototypical "yes man."

"It's Eric Northman. He might become a problem to me—to us. Either way, I want him dead—_after_ I toy with him for a century or two, that is."

"I know of him; he is called the Viking by some," Bartlett mused. "I met him at the last summit. He was trailing that spoiled little twat, Sophie-Anne Leclerq."

Russell chuckled. One of the best things about Bart was that he was willing to attend all of the interminable vampire summits for which Russell had never had the time or the patience.

"Of course," Bartlett added, "had he not been there, any number of vampires might have tried to take the bitch out."

Russell laughed heartily. "Now—you mustn't call my _lovely_ wife names."

"So you actually pledged to her," Bartlett said with a smile in his voice. "I suppose that means that we no longer need to go through with a wedding at Rhodes."

"No. I saw an opportunity to blackmail Sophie-Anne into marriage," Russell informed, "so I took it. It was much less messy than the bloody coup we'd been planning."

"So—is that what's riled the Viking? Is he upset for his queen's sake, or did he have designs on the monarchy himself?" Bartlett asked sarcastically.

"No," Russell responded, his tone now clipped. "The Viking has a personal vendetta against me, and he's dared to betray me."

"I'm sure that will be his _last_ error, My Lord," Bart said, his tone becoming more formal again in order to match Russell's obvious change of mood. "Do you need me to help you track the Viking? I can call my child, Jade Flower. As you know, she is an accomplished tracker."

Russell sighed. "No. Let us leave her be in Arkansas. When we make our move, I want her in position to kill Threadgill, and I don't want her affiliation with us to be known."

"As you wish, Master."

"You should, however, ask your child to keep her eyes open. Northman or his progeny may try to travel through her state."

"I will call her as soon as we hang up, and I shall have my people keep their eyes open as well."

"Good. Are all your plans in motion?"

"Yes, My Lord. Our numbers of both Weres and like-minded vampires grow each day. If it is your will, the upcoming summit at Rhodes will still be the perfect opportunity for us to take out the monarchs of Arkansas, Kentucky, and Tennessee. All of our assets are in place; thus, the Authority will never know that you are the mastermind of three coups."

Russell sneered. "I look forward to the day when the Authority is no more."

"And when you are emperor of the Americas," Bartlett said reverently.

The ancient vampire smiled. "Yes. That _will_ be a good day. Perhaps I shall still go to Rhodes—to publically faun over my new bride _and_ to enjoy all the fireworks. Regicide can be such compelling drama."

Bartlett chuckled. "I would enjoy seeing you there, My Lord."

"Until then, my friend," Russell said.

After hanging up with Bartlett, Russell called Felipe de Castro, who—despite the time difference—was likely awake already. The ability to be up for longer hours was Felipe's vampire gift. Russell did not envy that particular gift, though he knew that Felipe was quite fond of it.

The Nevada king answered Russell's call with a purr.

"It is lovely to hear from you, Russell. I hope you are calling to tell me that you and Talbot are coming out for another holiday," de Castro said in his thick Spanish accent.

"I'm afraid that a visit will have to wait, Felipe," Russell replied regretfully. "I wish it were pleasure that I was calling about, but I'm afraid it is business."

"Pity," Felipe responded.

"Yes," Russell echoed, even as he thought about his and Talbot's past liaisons with the Spaniard. His cock twitched, and he unfastened his pants before slowly stroking himself.

The three vampires had originally become lovers while they were still in Europe over six centuries before. Over the years, they had continued making annual or semi-annual visits to each other when they could. Russell enjoyed his and Talbot's casual dalliances with the Nevada king, and Felipe had proven to be a useful ally—more independently-minded than Bartlett, but still quite loyal, at least for the time being.

As with Bartlett, Russell had helped Felipe become a king, and Russell knew that the 800-year-old looked at him as a mentor of sorts. Felipe had demonstrated the willingness to be loyal to very few vampires over the years; in fact, it was clear that the Spaniard was truly loyal only to those whom he truly feared. Luckily, Felipe's eyes still conveyed his fear and awe of Russell. Indeed, Russell had already decided to make Felipe his second-in-command when he became emperor. All the same, however, Russell planned to keep a weather eye on his protégé; the ancient vampire figured that it would be at least a thousand years or so before Felipe got it into his head that he could eliminate Russell from the equation, but he also knew that that day _would_ come.

Russell continued the slow up-and-down movements of his hand. He'd known Felipe's kind before; they were both creative and devoted, the perfect minions—at least until the day when they weren't. Yes—eventually the ambition of vampires like Felipe would overrule their reason, and, on that day, their loyalty would turn on a dime. Luckily, Russell knew the signs to watch for in order to tell him when that day was at hand. And—until then—Felipe was just the kind of vampire Russell needed to help him establish and consolidate his power over the western hemisphere. Russell sighed. The day he had to kill the "becaped" king would be a melancholy one for him; however, he reconciled himself to the fact that it would likely be centuries away, and he brought himself back into the moment, even as he stilled the action of his hand on his cock. He would satisfy his lust later.

"I have made Sophie-Anne my bride," Russell informed.

"I see you are implementing your plan for growth," Felipe said with a chuckle. "Nevada will be with you when you are ready for your next step."

"Many thanks," Russell said. "Meanwhile, I'm afraid I have a rogue vampire on my hands. Eric Northman didn't take too well to my becoming king."

"I would have thought the Norseman would be more reasonable. By all accounts, he is quick to ally himself with vampires of strength, and you are certainly more worthy than Sophie-Anne."

"True," Russell said with false regret, "but Northman was recently caught selling V by the Magister. I fear that the unfortunate business with Godric drove the Viking mad."

"Unfortunate," Felipe agreed.

"Indeed. Northman killed the Magister and then fled," Russell lied.

Felipe chuckled heartily. "Oh—that _is_ convenient."

"It was conveniently done _after_ the Magister performed my wedding ceremony."

Felipe continued laughing. "You always were lucky, dear Russell."

"Not always," Russell pouted. "Sadly, my best tracker is out of commission."

"Mott?" Felipe asked.

"Yes. A human woman he wanted to turn almost killed him."

Felipe laughed again. "I really _must_ come and visit you. Such excitement!"

"You are welcome any time, old friend."

"Sadly, I do not think I can break away right now. My child requires a bit of help with the transitioning of his Were population in Arizona. Plus, if you have made your first move, I must make mine."

"Excellent," Russell commented.

"I will send you Victor, however," Felipe said. "You know that his tracking skills rival even Mott's, and he does not have the propensity for collecting human women along the way either. Seriously, Russell, I know that Mott is useful, but how do you put up with him?"

"He kept his last woman for a whole decade before he staked her," Russell defended. "Plus, his lack of any scruples is quite useful at times. And his tracking ability truly is second to none. I would appreciate the usage of Victor for a while, however. I know that Talbot would enjoy his company as well."

"Then Victor shall be on my private jet winging his way to you within an hour of sunset here."

"Wonderful. Send him to Northman's little bar in Shreveport."

"Of course, and give Talbot my love," Felipe said before hanging up.

Russell smiled. Felipe would soon begin implementing his own machinations to acquire more territory, beginning with Colorado and Idaho. And—when the time was right—Russell planned to let it be known that he was actually the one who had ultimate control over so many monarchies. However, that control was only a bonus for Russell. The real plan was to gain the attention of the Authority and begin to draw out the members. Up to this point, the Authority members had managed to retain their anonymity. Otherwise, Russell would have dealt with them already. The ancient vampire had resented the meddling Authority before the Great Revelation, but now their concern for "human/vampire relations" made Russell sick to his fucking stomach!

For that reason, Russell had sent in his only remaining child—other than Talbot, of course—to infiltrate the AVL. On the surface, Nan Flanagan was the face of mainstreaming, but Russell knew better. Nan was ruthless and bloodthirsty. She was also a wonderful source of information. However, not even she was privy to the identities of the Authority members.

Thinking of his child, Russell dialed his phone.

"Flanagan," came her sharp voice on the other end.

Russell immediately hung up, knowing that Nan would have recognized the number and spoken to him like that only if she were not alone.

Within minutes, she called back.

"Master," she said with deference. "I am sorry that I could not call you immediately."

"Dearest," Russell said with true affection in his tone. No one—not even Talbot—knew that Nan was his eldest child. He'd turned her almost 950 years before while he was in Siberia.

Near the beginning of his second millennium, Russell had gone through a phase where he'd enjoyed colder weather and isolation; thus, he'd spent a few centuries touring the northernmost populations of the world. After his time in the Scandinavian countries, he'd moved east—through the territory of the Eastern Slavs—what was now Russia. He'd eventually ended up in Siberia. It was there that he found his Надежда, who later chose the name Nan. He'd found his child seducing a chieftain in the area in which he was staying. Russell, too, had had designs upon that particular man. The elder vampire had been fascinated by the tough-as-nails peasant woman, and though he had made only male children before, he decided that a new experience was in order. He watched as Nan heartlessly killed the chieftain and stole the riches off of his corpse. And then he turned her and made her even more magnificent!

His most trusted child was the only one whom he'd informed of his plans to force the Magister to perform his wedding ceremony to Sophie-Anne.

"Your marriage to Sophie-Anne has been officially recognized by the Authority," Nan said. "They were displeased that you didn't petition for official permission, but they can do nothing now that it is done. How did you end up making the Magister conduct the ceremony?"

Russell chuckled. "Let's just say I threatened to take his head if he did not."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. "You know I do not mean to question you, Master, but what if the Magister tells the Authority you forced him? They are already looking for him to chastise him for performing the ceremony."

"He will not be a problem. I killed him."

Again there was silence.

"The Magister was a fucking idiot, but I did not think you were ready to alienate the Authority yet," Nan said cautiously.

"That is why I have a beautiful scapegoat," Russell informed. For the next ten minutes, Russell told Nan all about Eric Northman's identity as the young Viking man with the grudge. Nan promised to discreetly use the Authority's resources to try to track down Northman. The Authority had access to many government agencies, and given the advances in satellite technology, finding someone as distinct-looking as Eric would likely be easy. Nan also assured that she could make the Authority believe that Northman was responsible for the Magister's death, thereby keeping Russell out of their crosshairs.

When Russell hung up with his child, he was well-pleased. She had also been able to email him a list of all the names and contact information for the vampires of Area 5. Russell forwarded that list on to his day-woman, Jennifer Rigans, and ordered her to contact all the vampires on the list and make sure they were at Fantasia at 2:00 a.m. for a "meeting." Any that didn't show up would be assumed confederates of Northman, would be tortured, and would be put to their final deaths. Of course, Russell still planned to torture all of Area 5's vampires—at least a little—but only until he could establish where their true loyalties lay.

Just as Russell had completed his instructions to Jennifer, Bill jet up into a sitting position. "Sookie," he gasped.

Russell's attention was immediately on the younger vampire.

"Is she here?" Bill asked desperately.

Russell shook his head. "No. But I was hoping that you could find her for us tonight. Is she caught in the dream you sent?"

Bill sighed. "No—she must not have slept today."

"That is disappointing," Russell commented, keeping his voice even. "However, we can try again in the morning. Tell me—can you feel her at all?"

Bill closed his eyes. "I can feel her a little, but I am not sure how to find her." His voice took on bitterness. "Northman is still obscuring her from me!"

Bill opened his eyes to the sound of Russell's fangs piercing flesh. Russell's bloody wrist was soon in front of him.

"Take more, my child," Russell cooed. "Your senses will be sharper with my blood."

Immediately, Bill complied. Russell enjoyed the sounds coming from the younger vampire's mouth; however, he refrained from acting upon the lust he saw within Bill's eyes, even though his own loins were stirred as well.

Bill pulled away as Russell's wound healed. "I can feel her to the south," he said with triumph in his eyes. "I cannot tell how far, but I know the direction."

"Good boy," Russell said, quickly fastening his pants and putting his shoes on. Even as Bill was straightening his own clothing, Russell was contacting Dane.

"Be ready to travel in five minutes," Russell said into his phone before hanging up. A minute later, Bill and he were both feeding on the donor that had been brought in for Bill. And four minutes after that, they were in an SUV heading south. Dane was driving, and another SUV full of Were guards was following closely behind.

"Can you tap into Sookie's emotions?" Russell asked Bill.

"She is nervous," Bill said somewhat uncertainly. The younger vampire was clearly nervous as well. "She feels almost," Bill paused, "numb. It is difficult for me to get a good read on her, however."

Russell considered that information for a moment. "Is she closer or farther away from us than she was before?"

Bill closed his eyes. "I still sense her to the south, but I cannot tell if she is in the next town or in New Orleans—or even further from me," he said with frustration straining his voice.

Russell nodded. "That is fine, William. We are heading in the right direction, and we _will_ get to her." The king smiled reassuringly.

Bill nodded and continued to try to concentrate on his tie to Sookie. There were forty minutes of silence as the car spend south, heading toward New Orleans.

Suddenly Bill's eyes popped open. "She is sleeping now."

Russell smiled. "Excellent. Infiltrate her dreams, Bill. Show her how much you love her."

Bill nodded and closed his eyes again. After a few minutes, he opened them.

"I cannot get into Sookie's dreams!" the younger vampire yelled. "I cannot link well enough to her blood or her emotions!"

"It must be Northman's interference," Russell posited even as he patted Bill's hand to comfort him. "Keep trying, and do not despair. I am sure we will find your love soon."

Bill nodded and closed his eyes again.

Meanwhile, the king was happy to go into downtime and fantasize about what he _could_ do with a telepath and what he _would_ do with Northman.

Exactly eighty minutes later, Bill opened his eyes; they were panic-stricken. "I cannot sense her position at all anymore!" he cried desperately.

The king looked closely at Compton. "Is she alive?"

Bill nodded. "Yes. I can still feel her dreaming, and I am still trying to control my blood to infiltrate those dreams; however, it is as if I am being blocked at every turn. But, as I said, I can no longer sense her direction from us!"

Russell sighed heavily. "The Viking must have more resources than I thought." Within moments, Russell had his phone out. He dialed a number he'd hoped not to have to dial again. After all, witches were such unseemly creatures.

Four rings later, a harsh female voice answered the phone.

"King Russell," the voice said. "To what do I owe the _honor_?"

Russell's expression became a snarl because of the sarcasm in the female's voice. He had wanted to crush her many times before, but her value had stilled his hand. And—worst of all—she knew it!

"Hallow, I require your services—immediately," Russell said without preamble.

"I am currently employed with the vampire king of India," the witch replied.

Russell growled. "You are a resident of Mississippi, and you are _my_ asset, witch!"

"And _you_ are the one who lent me halfway around the world," Hallow snarled back. "I will be finished here within a week to ten days. Then I will come. Not before."

Russell sneered. "_Fine_! Meanwhile, you will answer a few questions for me," he demanded.

Hallow laughed. "Of course, my _king_."

Russell held in his anger and proceeded. "One of my vampires has a tie with a human. An older vampire also has a tie with her and has been interfering with my vampire's ability to track her."

"That is common enough," Hallow said. "I can do nothing to help your vampire. As you know, older vampire blood takes precedence over younger in such matters. I suggest you give the young one some of your own blood to boost his ability."

"Do you not think that I have already done that?" Russell asked through clenched teeth.

"And?" Hallow asked. "Did it not help?"

"For a while it seemed to be working as my vampire got a bearing on the human's direction—though not her distance from us. But, all of a sudden, there was nothing."

"Then the human is likely dead," the witch commented.

"No," Russell said even as Bill shook his head fervently. "My vampire is certain that she is alive. In fact, she is asleep; my vampire is, even now, trying to affect her dreams. However, he has lost the ability to sense her location at all."

The other end of the line was quiet for a moment. "And you suspect witchcraft?" Hallow asked.

"Yes!" Russell said with frustration. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have called you!"

Hallow chuckled. "You are correct to believe that a witch must be involved. As you know, there is no known spell to interfere with dream-sending; however, there are some that can block the blood in other ways." Her voice was full of amusement as she went on, "I would imagine it is a powerful witch, indeed, if he or she has created a concealment spell that is inhibiting a vampire's tracking abilities to the extent that even the strength of _your_ blood is not helping."

"Can you stop the spell?" Russell demanded.

"Not from India," Hallow howled. "And not from anywhere else either, but I could trace it_ if_ I knew the witch who cast it."

"If I knew the witch's identity, I would not need you!" Russell stormed, his impatience with the witch now frightening Bill.

Hallow was clearly still amused. "If your foe is using a witch for something like a concealment spell, then there are likely traces of his or her magic elsewhere. Find them, and I will see you in seven to ten days."

With that, the witch disconnected the call, and Russell promised himself that he would one day kill Hallow Stonebrook. He'd just have to wait until _after_ he had used her as much as possible.

Russell took a few minutes to calm down.

"Do you have _any_ feeling whatsoever about Miss Stackhouse's direction?" he finally asked Bill.

The younger vampire looked tired, helpless, and very nervous. He shook his head. "No. I am sorry I failed you, your majesty."

Russell sighed and then ordered Dane to turn the SUV around.

"We will find her eventually, young William," Russell said, his voice calm once more. He texted a few of his Weres in the New Orleans area to begin a search there, but since Bill had known only direction and not distance, Eric could have taken Sookie anywhere in the southern hemisphere for all Russell knew.

"I am sorry," Bill repeated, obviously crestfallen.

Russell sighed and patted the younger vampire's hand. "As you heard, it is likely that Northman has a powerful witch working with him. And, if that is the case, then even_ I_ couldn't have found her with a blood tie. You did all you could, William," he comforted, "for now."

"I hate to think of my Sookie in Eric's hands," the younger vampire lamented.

Russell smiled at the youngling. Bill's zeal for Sookie amused him to no end. But the girl had shown similar devotion to the vampire as well. She had risked her life by going to Jackson, and—even after Russell had shown her the file full of information Bill had collected—Sookie had still put her life on the line by rescuing him the next day.

Russell was pleased by this. Apparently Miss Stackhouse could not be glamoured, but she felt herself "in love" with Compton—in love to the point that she would do _anything_ to get to him. She'd even apparently tried to feed him when he was near death; of course, she'd almost died for her trouble, but that was beside the point.

"She will not be in the Norseman's hands for long," Russell assured Bill. "I have seen wonderful love and devotion from your Sookie, and that love is _not_ for Eric."

"I love her as well. I would do _anything_ for her," the younger vampire averred.

"I know you would, William," Russell said smoothly. "And—soon—you will help her to transition into her new life. Eventually, the Viking's blood influence in her will be gone. Only _your_ blood will remain." Russell chose not to tell Bill that he planned to get Sookie to take the blood of one other vampire in his retinue. Russell had decided to save that tidbit of information for later and to present it as a security measure for both Sookie and Bill. He'd even let them "decide" upon the vampire. Likely they would choose Talbot. He had the ability to charm almost anyone out of his or her blood. Thus, Russell didn't see any reason why Talbot wouldn't be able to charm someone into taking some of his.

The best part would be that both Sookie and Bill would still feel as if they were "free." And—as long as they behaved—Russell was more than willing to maintain that illusion for them. Hell—he might even let them return to Bon Temps for a while—_if_ the girl remained stubbornly insistent about the idea. After that, it would be easy to get some of Bartlett's or Felipe's vampires to come in and "pose a threat" to Sookie's safety. Russell could imagine the whole amusing scenario! He'd "encourage" Bill and Sookie to go back to their "normal" lives for a while, but then danger would come, and they would come to their "king" for protection. Russell smiled to himself. It would be an amusing game, and it would make the couple even more beholden to him.

"I am afraid that she will reject me," Bill cried gloomily, interrupting Russell's musing. "After all, I hurt her _intentionally_ by telling her that I was with Lorena again, but I was only trying to protect her!"

The younger vampire—it seemed—had a propensity for tears, so Russell handed him a handkerchief. "Of course you were!" he responded with understanding. "She will understand that you were only trying to keep her safe. You did not understand then that I meant your Sookie no harm. In fact, I want to treat her—_and_ you—with the respect that valued assets deserve. Sophie-Anne would have used the girl horribly, but things will be different with me."

"Thank you, your majesty," Bill said. "Your kindness has been," he paused, "unexpected."

"I have found that most good things in this life are, William," Russell said knowingly.

"I'm just afraid that Sookie will find things out—that Sophie-Anne or others will tell her things—that would only harm her," Bill said.

Russell couldn't help the little smirk that formed on his lips, though he hid it from Bill. It seemed that the younger vampire had even more secrets he wanted to hide from Sookie. From the file, Russell could guess some of them. He could also tell that Bill was fishing for more assurances that he could keep his telepath in the dark.

"Secrets have a way of coming to light," Russell responded sagely. "I have lived long enough to know that very few secrets can be maintained for long. Why don't you tell me what you fear young Miss Stackhouse will learn so that I can better offer my advice on the matter?"

Bill seemed to consider Russell's words for a moment and then nodded. "I have done things that I'm not proud of," the younger vampire admitted.

Russell held in his glee. With Compton, everything _always_ came back to guilt. "So have we all," the king lied; in truth, he had forsworn regret long ago. "Yet, where there is love, there is also forgiveness," he added soothingly.

"The queen sent me to Bon Temps to secure Sookie for her," Bill confessed.

Russell had guessed that much already. "But you _never_ took Miss Stackhouse to the queen. That will count for a lot with the girl."

Bill contemplated for a moment. "Maybe. But it was just a series of chance events that made my procurement of Sookie take longer than expected."

"Do tell," Russell said, leaning forward a little. He _so_ loved a good story, and it would take them a while to get back to Fangtasia.

"I—uh," Bill paused. "I'll start at the beginning—if that is okay, your majesty."

Russell nodded permissively. "That's always a good place to start a story."

Bill seemed to be taking a deep breath into his lungs. Of course, all vampires could "breathe" when they wanted. Air was still brought into their bodies as needed. After all, if it were not, then speech would not be possible. However, few drew air in fully. Russell had learned quickly that doing so was one of Bill's "tells." It meant that the youngling was getting ready to tell Russell a very sordid tale indeed! The king was looking forward to it.

"It begins with the queen's pet—Hadley."

"Ah—the blond one of which she is so fond. I believe that Hadley will be residing with us in Mississippi for the time being."

"That complicates things," Bill said quietly. "Hadley is Sookie's cousin."

With difficulty, Russell held in his grin. "Then Sookie will definitely wish to interact with her. But what can Hadley possibly tell your fairy that will do her harm?" Russell asked innocently.

"As you know," Bill began. "I was—I _am_—Sophie-Anne's procurer. The queen is fond of rarities, and over my decade in her service, I have found many humans with unusual blood."

"Yes," Russell said. "Talbot would like for us to take advantage of your skills in this area."

Bill immediately looked full of shame at the idea.

"Remember, young William," Russell mollified gently, "Talbot treats our unique donors like precious commodities. They live in luxury and are quite happy with their lives—just as Hadley seems to be."

Bill nodded, the guilt on his face immediately abating. He took another breath. "I found Hadley living in squalor—in a house where methamphetamines were being produced. She was an addict and was selling the meth for the home owner in order to get her own daily fix; however—despite these things—her blood was the best I'd smelled in years. I made her a project of sorts."

"A fixer-upper," Russell mused.

Bill nodded. "I knew that the queen would not want to feed from anyone in Hadley's condition, so I took the girl to an apartment I kept for," he paused, "promising candidates. It was there that I would personally prepare new donors for the queen."

"Ah," Russell smiled, "a trick of the procurement trade, I would imagine."

"Exactly," Bill responded. "I glamoured Hadley into no longer wishing to take illicit drugs, and within a week, the physical withdraw symptoms of her drug use were no more. I made sure that she was well-fed, for she was virtually skeletal at first. And I also bought her some nice clothing. Within a few weeks, she was ready to be," he paused, "_tried_."

"And you tried her?" Russell asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I always 'tried' those whom I had to collect out of gutter," Bill answered stiffly. "It was my duty. I could not have them being a disappointment to the queen."

"Of course not," Russell said evenly. "I would expect nothing less from an _expert_ procurer—such as yourself."

Bill looked relieved at Russell's words. Both vampires in the vehicle knew that "trying"—in this case—involved both feeding and fucking, and Russell's expression showed Bill that he need not feel guilty for these actions.

"So Hadley was deemed," Russell paused, "_acceptable_ to take to the queen."

Bill nodded. "She had grown to trust me—since I had taken care of her. Of course, after my time with her, I glamoured her to enjoy the kinds of attentions that the queen would give her sexually. She had preferred men, though she'd done much in her pursuit of drugs."

"So her preference was changed—so that she would enjoy females more?"

Bill nodded in confirmation. "And my work was a success. The queen immediately favored Hadley. Her blood was wonderful—with a spice I had never tasted before!" The younger vampire licked his lips at the memory. "And the girl was especially uninhibited—and unafraid—when it came to intimate encounters."

The king smiled at the look on Bill's face. He figured that Compton would be blushing if it were possible for a vampire to do so. "And—of course—your glamour helped her along in that area."

Bill nodded again. "Yes—but Hadley also had an inclination for it. Her background was quite," he paused, "sordid."

"Sordid?" Russell asked.

"Yes. She'd been a stripper and an occasional prostitute. Of course, these things made her even more uninhibited, which was excellent! You know how the queen is both a voyeur and an exhibitionist."

Showing his distaste, Russell sneered. "Yes."

Bill took another deep breath. "But there was more to Hadley. She also had a very self-destructive streak. She'd run away from home and had begun taking drugs as a teen."

"Do you know why?" Russell asked with interest.

Bill nodded. "Yes. Hadley rebelled against her single mother, which is not unusual. However, she'd also been sexually abused as a child—by an uncle. That was at the root of her problematic behavior."

"How sad," Russell responded.

"Yes," Bill agreed. "I learned of her abuse a few days before I took her to Sophie-Anne, and—so that she might make the queen a better pet—I glamoured her to forget her uncle's misdeeds. After that, she was immediately happier. And she accepted her new role in the queen's entourage with glee!" he reported.

"So—you learned of your Sookie from her cousin as well?" Russell probed when Bill was silent for a few moments.

"Yes. The queen enjoyed Hadley so much that it wasn't long before she and I began questioning Hadley about her remaining family members."

"A reasonable step," Russell observed. "After all, blood is inherited."

Bill nodded. "Yes. Unfortunately, Hadley shared that there were only three members of her family's bloodline remaining: a grandmother and two cousins—Adele, Jason, and Sookie Stackhouse. Hadley told us that she thought Sookie was," he paused, "odd."

"Odd?"

"Yes. Hadley explained that Sookie always seemed to know what others were thinking, and when the queen showed interest, Hadley was happy to tell more."

"Ah—to please her queen," Russell observed.

"Yes. We soon suspected that Sookie was a telepath and, given the fact that Hadley's blood was so rich, the queen posited that we had found a group of Fae hybrids."

"A wonderful find!" Russell exclaimed, acknowledging Bill's good work.

Bill shook his head sadly. "Of course, Sophie-Anne was greedy, especially because of the old myth that indicated that fairy blood could help a vampire to walk in the sun. The queen tried with Hadley. Uh—not on herself, of course." He paused. "To preserve secrecy, she asked me to try with Hadley's blood, but the sun immediately scorched my flesh."

"How disappointing for the queen," Russell deadpanned.

"Indeed," Bill returned. "After that, Sophie-Anne decided to send me to Bon Temps. My mission had several goals. First, I was to establish contact with the whole Stackhouse family and see if their blood was as flavorful as Hadley's. I was also to confirm that Sookie was a telepath, and—if so—I was to secure her into our service by any means necessary, though the queen wanted the girl to come more-less willingly."

"Of course," Russell observed.

Bill continued. "My main mission, however, was to trace the Stackhouse family line back to its fairy source and keep watch to see if I might find other Fae."

"Ah, so the queen _was_ greedy," Russell mused. In truth, the king couldn't blame her. He was old enough to remember when fairies were more commonly found in the human realm. He had even tasted a half-blood before. It was delicious—intoxicating.

He couldn't wait to have more!

* * *

**A/N: Hello all! I hope you enjoyed this latest offering of **_**Uninvited**_**. It'll be another busy week for me, but I'll try to get you as a much as I can.**

**Thanks for all the comments that you made about the last chapter. As I've said before, my work schedule and my desire to prioritize getting you new chapters mean that I don't get the time to respond to all reviews individually as I'd like to do, but I appreciate every single one of them! Your words and support are highlights in my busy days! So—again—many thanks! **

**Until next time,**

**Kat**

**Remember that you can check out the wonderful banners by Sephrenia, who's done a new video too, on my WordPress site (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	21. Chapter 21: A Fairy Tale

**Chapter 21: A Fairy Tale**

_ "Indeed," Bill returned. "After that, Sophie-Anne decided to send me to Bon Temps. My mission had several goals. First, I was to establish contact with the whole Stackhouse family and see if their blood was as flavorful as Hadley's. I was also to confirm that Sookie was a telepath, and—if so—I was to secure her into our service by any means necessary, though the queen wanted the girl to come more-less willingly."_

_ "Of course," Russell observed._

_ Bill continued. "My main mission, however, was to trace the Stackhouse family line back to its fairy source and keep watch to see if I might find other Fae."_

_ "Ah, so the queen was greedy," Russell mused. In truth, the king couldn't blame her. He was old enough to remember when fairies were more commonly found in the human realm. He had even tasted a half-blood before. It was delicious—intoxicating. _

_ He couldn't wait to have more!_

Bill took in a deep breath and looked at Russell with unease.

The king smiled benevolently. "You may tell me anything, young William. You will face no judgment here—just acceptance," he added seductively.

His eyes hopeful, Bill nodded. "Okay." He took another breath. "I tracked the Stackhouses for several days before I made contact with any of them."

"And whom did you approach first?" Russell asked.

Bill's voice took on a more formal, almost "professional" tone. Russell knew that he was now talking to Bill in "procurer mode."

"Sookie's brother was the easiest because he lives alone," Bill informed.

"And is he like his sister?"

"No," Bill responded. "Jason smells somewhat better than an average human. But, unlike Sookie, I could easily glamour him."

"And did you taste him?"

Bill nodded. "Yes. But I found it was only slightly more interesting than regular human blood—not even as good as Hadley's." He contemplated for a moment. "There is a twinge of something 'other' in it, but the boy's regular type is O-positive, and the normal qualities of his blood counterbalance the spice. Jason is also quite 'simple' in some ways—easily manipulated. He told me that his sister was special in some way, but he couldn't really say what that was. It was as if he didn't want to acknowledge it himself." Bill shook his head a little. "Jason did indicate that Sookie sometimes knew of things that she shouldn't, but that was the best I could get out of him. I glamoured him to forget our encounter and then left him alone."

Russell sighed. "What a pity that he didn't at least taste as good as Hadley."

Bill nodded in agreement and then continued. "The next night, I watched Adele's house—where Sookie also lived—until Sookie went to work. I then paid Adele a visit. She too was easy to glamour, and I quickly gained an invitation into the house. Adele's blood was completely human. I concluded, therefore, that Adele's husband's side of the family was the likely source of the fairy blood. I questioned Adele and found out that her husband, Earl, disappeared without a trace nearly twenty years ago. I also learned that Jason and Sookie's parents had both been killed in a car accident, which was caused by an anomalous flash flood. Hadley's mother had died of cancer. Adele knew of no other relatives—not even distant cousins."

"Was she able to confirm her granddaughter's telepathy for you?" Russell asked.

"Yes. She told me that her granddaughter could hear others' thoughts and had learned to build what Adele called 'shields' so that she could avoid doing so. I was able to discern that the family tried to pretend that Sookie did _not_ have such a gift. And it seemed that the girl did whatever she could to keep from outwardly showing the signs of her ability. However, the townspeople had still intuited that there was a difference with Sookie; they even called her 'crazy Sookie' as a nickname. Especially as a child, Sookie had been ostracized by most people because she'd not yet gotten control of her gift. I also learned that Sookie had never been in a relationship with a man because touch amplified the effects of her telepathy." Bill took another deep breath. "I also questioned Adele to find out if Sookie had a history of abuse similar to her cousin's."

"Did she?" Russell asked with interest.

"Yes. It was Adele's brother who molested the two girls. After I had begun things with Sookie, she also confided in me and told me about her abuse."

Russell nodded in acknowledgment. "I see how all of this information would have been quite useful in your pursuit of Miss Stackhouse. Tell me—did the grandmother have any additional information?"

Bill shook his head. "Not really anything pertinent to the potential fairy line. I had Adele show me family photos and whatnot, and I 'borrowed' and then copied anything that seemed potentially useful in order to add it to my files. I returned Adele's original items the next night so that they wouldn't be missed. I also asked Adele to tell me more about Sookie—her likes and dislikes. From that visit, I decided upon the best way to get into the girl's good graces."

"And what did you decide?"

"Well—I had two plans, and the one I ultimately chose was contingent upon whether or not Sookie could hear my thoughts. Thankfully, her telepathy does not work on vampires, so I set in motion my preferred plan."

"Which was?"

"Well—it was clear that Sookie had always tried to hide her ability and that she'd gone to great pains to develop her 'shields.' I figured that—if she couldn't hear my thoughts—I would be immediately interesting to her. I also posited that my presence would be soothing to her. I hoped to force encounters that would compel her to tell me of her gift, and—after she had—I planned to show acceptance of it and offer aid with her shields."

"I see. You wanted to give her the things she most craved—acceptance and aid in pretending to be 'normal.' Very generous—and clever," Russell complimented.

"Thank you, your majesty," Bill said with a little smile. "I knew that I could offer myself as a suitor if Sookie couldn't hear my thoughts."

"The _only_ viable suitor," Russell smiled.

Bill nodded. "Yes. That was my thinking. I decided that it would be best to observe Sookie around others before approaching her. And I needed to know if she could hear me or not, so I went to her place of employment."

"She worked at the shifter's bar?" Russell asked with clear disdain in his tone.

Bill nodded. "Yes. Sookie is quite loyal to Sam Merlotte and her few other friends. She did not know at the time that Merlotte was a shifter. Through observing from outside the bar, I was able to find out that "crazy Sookie" was a common topic of gossip among the townspeople. I studied Sookie's face, and it became clear almost immediately that the thoughts of others hurt her a great deal. I could see her concentrating very hard to keep those thoughts out of her mind."

"How did you come to be certain that she couldn't hear you?" Russell queried.

"After I studied the way she reacted to the thoughts of others, I tried thinking a few things right at her. First, I did it from outside the bar—before she ever saw me. Then I entered the bar." Bill looked a little uncomfortable. "She uses what she calls her 'crazy Sookie smile' to cover up her reactions; however, her face remained placid around me as I thought about . . . ." Bill stopped and looked away, as if ashamed.

"What did you think about?" Russell asked.

"Fucking her in the very booth I was in. Draining her and everyone else in the room," the younger vampire responded quietly.

"Horrors that one of Sookie's ilk wouldn't have been able to ignore," Russell commented.

Bill nodded. "After only a few moments, I became confident that Sookie was, indeed, ignorant of my thoughts. Because she didn't know what the shifter was, I also hypothesized that his thoughts were not clear to her. That theory was something that she later confirmed."

"So werewolf thoughts would likely be obscured from her as well," Russell observed.

"That would be my guess, but I am not sure," Bill responded. He took another deep breath. "I also tried to glamour her that first night. But even with my higher than normal level of skill, she resisted. It even seemed as if she could tell that I was trying to enter her mind, so I immediately backed off. Despite that, however, it was clear that she was intrigued by me. It was also obvious that I was the first vampire she'd ever met. And I quickly realized that I could use my status as 'other' to my benefit."

"Ah," Russell nodded. "She would see you as a kindred spirit because you were both different from the others in the town."

"Exactly," Bill said. "It was painfully obvious that she had little acceptance from others. Adele had been correct; she tried to both hide and stifle her gift rather than using it. And even when she decided to try to use her telepathy to help clear her brother of some murders he was suspected of committing, she did so with great hesitation—almost apology."

Russell nodded. "I read about the human serial killer, Rene Lenier, in your file. He killed Adele Stackhouse—correct?"

Bill nodded.

Russell smiled at his young protégé after Bill had been silent for a few moments. "So far, William, I don't see anything untoward about your actions, and things could be easily explained to Sookie. You were sent to do a job by your queen. Sookie need never know that you made contact with her family members before you met her. I admit that Hadley's presence will complicate things, but I will make sure that you have had ample time alone with Sookie in order to explain how the queen first learned of her telepathy. You can emphasize that _Hadley_ is the reason for the queen's interest and that you were just following orders. Clearly, you fell in love with Sookie once you began interacting with her. Just tell her that you were trying to keep her from the queen through a variety of delays."

Bill nodded. "I can see that working with what Hadley might tell Sookie, but the queen knows _everything_ that I did in those first days with Sookie, and I don't know how Sookie could forgive me for many of my actions."

"Tell me what the queen knows," Russell cajoled.

Bill sighed. "When I realized that my glamour didn't work, I decided that seduction was the route I would have to take with Sookie—since Sophie-Anne didn't want me to kidnap her outright," Bill said as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Thus, I glamoured two humans into helping my plan along a bit. They happened into the bar the night that I met Sookie, and given their behavior and interest in me, I immediately guessed that they were users of V. I sat with them, and while Sookie was in the back of the bar, I glamoured them. They were actually planning on draining me and had some silver in their vehicle from draining a vampire in Monroe the week before. Quickly, I glamoured them so that they would 'think' about their plans in great detail."

"Ah—so that Miss Stackhouse would hear them."

"Yes," Bill confessed. "She seemed to dislike them anyway, and when she brought refills to our table, she clearly heard something that troubled her. Immediately after she went to the back again, I left with the Rattrays." Bill sighed deeply. "I glamoured them to use their silver to hold me down; however, I made sure that I could escape it if necessary. Then they were to take a couple vials of my blood. They had some blood left from the last vampire they drained, so the scene was set up to look as if they had taken a lot more blood from me than they actually did."

Russell nodded and motioned for the younger vampire to continue.

"Not long after that, Sookie came outside looking for me. Just as I'd hoped she would, she came alone."

"You were counting on the fact that she didn't wanted to admit to the others _how_ she knew you were in trouble," Russell observed.

"Yes," Bill said. "All of her closest friends and her brother were at Merlotte's, and I took the opportunity to see if she would tell them what she'd heard with her telepathy and ask them for help. When she did not, that told me a lot about Sookie. She was clearly independent—to a fault. And she was also clearly reticent about using her gift and asking for help. Thus, even with those closest to her, she was withdrawn. I knew that I could use all of those things to my benefit. My plan, if Sookie came alone, was to let the Rattrays capture her and beat her up to the point that she would need my blood."

"And you would break through your silver, save her life, and become her trusted hero in one fell swoop," Russell observed.

Bill nodded, the shame clear in his eyes. "Yes. But things did not work that way with Sookie. She took a chain from her brother's truck and used it as a weapon against the Rattrays. Somehow, she managed to get them to leave the scene, and she 'rescued' me."

Russell laughed a little. "No wonder you found her worthy."

"Yes," Bill said somewhat cautiously. "I was very intrigued by her. However, she was a little wary of me at first, and she kept hold of some of the silver after she'd freed me. It was then that I realized that charming her would be more difficult than I had first thought, especially since I'd been unable to get my blood into her." Bill sighed. "I offered her the vials of my blood that the Rattrays had taken, but she declined. She didn't seem to know much about V, and she wasn't interested in trying it or selling it—despite the money she could get for it. She left soon after, telling me that she had to return to work before she was missed."

"Interesting," Russell said. "She obviously had no intention of telling her friends of her heroic deed either."

Bill shook his head. "No. Realizing that I needed a better-developed plan, I decided to go home and regroup that night. I took the blood and called the queen to report what had happened. She agreed with me that seduction was the best method of proceeding. When I told her of my plan to get my blood into Sookie, she gave me her approval. She also asked me to sell the V, rather than to destroy it." Bill looked down ashamedly. "I am sorry to admit that I did just that. The queen needed the money for the state."

"You were just obeying your monarch," Russell soothed.

Bill looked up at Russell with gratefulness in his eyes. "I hated obeying some of her directives," Bill admitted.

"Rest assured that the blood is _fully_ sacred to me," Russell assured.

Bill nodded and smiled a little before his face fell once more. "I tracked the Rattrays to their home and glamoured them into telling me who they planned to sell the V to. I then used them to arrange the transaction. While I was with them, I developed a second plan to get my blood into Sookie."

Russell motioned for Bill to continue, anxious to hear about Act II of his little "love story" with the fairy.

Bill did not disappoint. "I returned to Merlotte's the next night. Once more, I saw that Sookie was interested in me, and I determined that it was because she couldn't hear my mind. She seemed excited by that notion—and soothed, just as I'd hoped she'd be. So I got her to sit down with me, and I took her hands. My thought was that if she concentrated on only my mind, she would no longer hear the thoughts of the others around her as fully. I assumed that this would help her to relax her gift in my presence, which would—in turn—cause her to relax around me in general. I knew that she would be more likely to trust me if I demonstrated that I could help her in this way."

"And did it work?" Russell asked.

Bill nodded. "Even better than I'd hoped, and I could see her softening toward me. With little difficulty, I got her to agree to meet me alone outside of Merlotte's after her shift ended." Bill took a deep breath. "I glamoured the Rattrays so that they would be lying in wait for her. I also glamoured them to the point that they were not thinking about why they were there—or about much of anything else for that matter."

"Clever," Russell said. "You helped the telepath to shore up her shields with your presence. And then you made sure she would not hear strong thoughts coming from her attackers."

"Yes," Bill mumbled. He looked at Russell with a tortured expression. "Had I known Sookie better then—had I loved her then—I would have never allowed them to beat her as I did."

"Of course not," Russell said comfortingly, even as his hid his smile.

Bill went on, as if driven to finish his confession. "The Rattrays snuck up on her and began to beat her. I watched it happen, but waited. The shifter showed up, and the human male was about to shoot him, but Sookie reached up to stop him. When she did that, I heard a snap. I knew then that Sookie would be paralyzed if I did nothing, so I quickly killed the Rattrays and took Sookie deeper into the woods so that the Shifter could not interfere. At first she resisted, but I eventually got her to drink my blood." He looked down guiltily. "I had not intended to take her blood too. The queen had been very clear that she didn't want me to bond with Sookie. However, Sookie had an open wound on her head."

Russell smiled. "You were just healing her," he comforted. "Tell me—how did she taste?"

"Like ambrosia," Bill croaked out. "It was then that I knew that someone such as Sophie-Anne would harm Sookie irreparably. And I became torn. However, I did not yet recognize that I loved Sookie, so when I got home, I again gave Sophie-Anne a full report."

Russell patted the young vampire on the back in a comforting gesture. "I can see why you are worried now. If Sophie-Anne tells Sookie that you intended to have her beaten so that you could play the hero and get your blood into her from the day of your very first meeting—that you actually planned _two_ such attacks—then your fairy would begin to doubt your love for her. And she might realize that her own love for you was helped along by your blood in her and the bond you started that night."

"I did not tell her about the beginning of the bond—or even about all the effects of a tie," Bill confessed.

"As well you should _not_ have," Russell reassured. "Humans—even ones who are part Fae—do not need to know all that we can do with the blood. What did you tell her?"

"I told her that I would be able to sense it if she were in danger and then track her. I also told her that having vampire blood would increase her libido for a time."

"Clever," Russell said. "She would have thought that her attraction to you was a product of her own increased desire. And she would have been comforted that you could play her hero again since you had done it so well with her attackers."

"Yes," Bill said quietly before telling the king all about the rest of his early relationship with Sookie.

As Russell listened, he appreciated Bill's particular brand of self-delusion all the more. Indeed, Russell _did_ think that Bill's plan had been clever. Between their first blood exchange and the fact that Bill had cast himself into the role of the knight in shining armor, Sookie was caught in his trap and quickly fell in love. Of course, Bill used his blood and a few well-timed dreams to get her right where he wanted her. And soon—according to the Southern gent—he too was "in love."

"Do not fear," Russell said soothingly when Bill was finally done with his little fairy tale. The king rubbed comforting circles into Bill's back. "Sophie-Anne will say nothing of this to Miss Stackhouse or to anyone else."

"How can you be so sure?" Bill asked. "She would enjoy causing the destruction of Sookie and my relationship, especially since I had been delaying our return to New Orleans for weeks and weeks. After those first few reports, I also stopped letting the queen know about my progress with Sookie. I had even planned to take Sookie to Vermont—to marry her. I had hoped it would keep Sophie-Anne away from Sookie. And—if not—I figured that I could get her to leave the state with me if we were husband and wife."

"Then congratulations truly _are_ in order," Russell said as he increased the pressure of his caresses. He enjoyed the scent of Bill's arousal at his touch, as well as the guilt that came along with it.

"Congratulations?" Bill asked.

"Yes. As I said before, I do not see any reason why you and your Sookie cannot marry as you had intended. In fact, I would be honored to be in attendance. And—if you chose to complete a bond with her—I would also endorse that."

"I have exchanged twice with her," Bill admitted. "However, I wanted to tell her something of the bond before the third exchange."

"Of course," Russell said. "And—as I said—do not worry about Sophie-Anne. I will make it clear to her that you and Sookie are more valuable to me than she is. I will let her keep her miserable life and be the figurehead queen of Louisiana only as long as she does not annoy me too much. And if she tells Sookie of your indiscretion, then I will have her head. So," Russell reiterated, "do not trouble yourself. Nothing that you have done need affect your plans with Miss Stackhouse. She will be told about Hadley being the one to speak about her gift. She will be told that the queen sent you to procure her, but she will also hear that you refused to hand her over to the queen because of your growing love for her. You will tell her that—by joining my service—you have found a way to protect her from Sophie-Anne forever. Perhaps, you two can even return to her beloved home in Bon Temps. I believe that I could do with having Sookie work for me only one or two weeks out of every eight, and I would provide her with a contract that would pay very well for her services and guarantee her protection. And she could travel to a clinic near her home once a week to have a pint of her blood drawn to stockpile for me. In fact, as long as others did not learn of her ability and come for her," Russell added, even as he hid his sly smirk, "you two could stay almost fulltime in your hometown. After all, you could employ your procurement skills anywhere!"

"Really?" Bill asked, obviously enamored by the picture that Russell was painting of his and Sookie's life together.

"Of course." Russell winked. "After your wedding, Sookie will want to make you a wonderful home, and I am sure that I can find employment for you in Area 5; perhaps, in addition to procuring the occasional new donor for me, you would be interested in the investigator position. Or—if you think having more freedom with your schedule is better for your relationship with the future Mrs. Compton, I have a database project that you might work on."

Bill bowed his head. "Your majesty, I am honored that you would think of me for such duties."

Russell continued to caress Bill's shoulder lightly, allowing the younger vampire's reactions to dictate his own. It was not long before Bill's arousal led Russell to move in to kiss the youngling.

"Your majesty!" Bill gasped after having allowed the elder vampire to kiss him for several seconds. "I wish to stay faithful to Sookie."

Russell pulled back a little. "If you decide to do that, I will fully support your decision," the king said with affection in his voice. "But consider—Miss Stackhouse is mostly human. And it would be best—for the both of you—if you had a safe outlet. A _secret_ outlet." The king smiled comfortingly. "You _could_ have such an outlet in Talbot and myself. Female donors could even be added to the mix if you preferred. Your relationship with Sookie would not be compromised. In fact, you could take out your more aggressive tendencies on others—thus leaving only your tender side for your wife. Surely—in your human time—men did such things."

Bill nodded. "Yes. My father kept several mistresses over the years."

Russell nodded. "And you?"

"War can be lonely," Bill said with shame in his eyes. "However, I never bedded another _woman_—other than my dearest Caroline—until Lorena, but. . . ." His voice trailed off.

"War _can_ be lonely, William," Russell said in a soothing tone. "And some men seek out the fraternity of other men."

"I always enjoyed women," Bill said, somewhat defensively.

"I know. I'm sure you prefer them. Am I correct?" Russell asked.

Bill nodded, though there was some uncertainty in his eyes. Russell didn't bother to point that out.

"But if you enjoy men too—on occasion—there is nothing wrong with that either. Especially for a vampire, it is necessary to experiment."

"Sookie will be enough for me," Bill insisted.

"I am certain that she will be, and she _is_ part Fae, so she will be stronger than a normal human. Still," Russell said almost paternally, "I care for you _both_ and would not want you to unintentionally harm her. It is something that you must consider, young William. With a human, one must," Russell paused, "hold back."

"Yes," Bill conceded after a few moments.

Russell moved away from Bill a little more. "As I said, consider your options carefully. Talbot and I would love your company, William. But if you would prefer to be with only Sookie, that is fine as well. Just know that my consort and I are discreet and would _never_ expect to overshadow or replace the affection you hold for your true love."

Bill looked at Russell almost shyly. "Thank you, your majesty. You have given me much to consider."

"I will give you just one more thing to think about then—if I may," Russell said.

Bill nodded his consent.

"Analyze the encounters you've already had with you fiancé. And be honest with yourself. If any of those experiences got a little rougher than you'd intended, then it would be safer for both you and your bride if you had an outlet of some kind—even if you chose something other than Talbot and myself for that outlet."

Bill's face immediately took on signs of guilt.

Russell concealed his smile. He would bet his un-dead life that Bill had, indeed, gotten too rough with Sookie on occasion—even before the incident of almost draining and raping her in the van.

The king allowed for silence to fall between Bill and himself as Dane sped them toward Fangtasia. Russell could tell that Bill's thoughts were awhirl. Still, the ancient vampire reckoned that Bill would be in his bed before night's end, but he wanted to allow the youngling the choice—or at least the illusion of choice.

Meanwhile, he would give his young charge some time to contemplate his choices as well as to concentrate upon his task of infiltrating Sookie's night dreams and composing woven dreams for the days. As for himself, Russell spent the rest of the ride planning out how he would deal with the vampires of Area 5. It was just past 2:00 a.m., the time he'd told the vampires in Northman's old area to be at Fangtasia.

But he was the goddamned king!

So they could wait to be tortured!

* * *

**A/N: Well—I'm getting this one to you MUCH earlier than I thought I would! You can thank the fact that my students successfully convinced me to give them a short extension on their essays. So—I was left without essays to grade this afternoon. **

**What was I to do? **

**Okay—I have to say sorry to Bill lovers, but looking back to the introduction of Bill's character in the show, I couldn't imagine that he wasn't doing almost precisely what I've described here. I will say that the more I wrote this story, the more I disliked Bill.**

**Next up: We'll get one more chapter of Russell before morning takes us to Eric and Sookie. And—I have to say that the next chapter is one of my favorites in the piece, so I'm looking forward to your reading it.**

**Best,**

**Kat**

**Remember to check out Sephrenia's banner for the story on my wordpress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	22. Chapter 22: To Covet

**Chapter 22: To Covet**

**cov·et **\ˈkə-vət\

_verb_

1. to want (something that you do not have) very much

2. to wish for earnestly _covet_ an award

3. to desire (what belongs to another) inordinately or culpably

* * *

All told, Area 5 had thirty-one permanent vampire residents and twelve who were living there on a temporary or trial basis. The number was rather large, given the size of the area and the lack of a major city to draw in tourists. However, Russell soon determined that Eric Northman had been quite a draw in and of himself.

As sheriff, Eric had been fair and disciplined. He'd aided many of the vampires of Area 5 in their business ventures and in settling into the post-Great Revelation world. In return, he asked his people but two things: to "show" themselves at Fangtasia at least twice per month and to pay their tithes accurately and on time. Most of the vampires had no compunction about doing these tasks. And Northman seemed to offer a fair alternative if vampires did not want to fulfill his first requirement. For instance, a few of the vampires who had maintained the secrecy of their vampirism had gotten out of the Fangtasia requirement by doubling their tithes or performing other services. Most of the vampires, however, enjoyed the "buffet" of humans that Fangtasia offered to them, so they frequented the vampire bar more than twice per month, which Eric encouraged with other kinds of incentives.

However—no matter how much the vampires of Area 5 might have respected Northman—and even been loyal to him—vampires were pragmatic creatures when it came down to brass tacks. They had to be. Thus, none of them questioned the three-thousand-year old who told them that the winds of change had come.

Still, despite their cooperation, each of the Area 5 vampires received a bit of torture—just a touch in most cases, to ensure that they had nothing to hide. Many years before, Russell had discovered that just a little silvering was enough to loosen most lips, and it was actually quite easy to tell the vampires who knew more than they initially told.

The king had called in quite a few of his own people; however, when Victor Madden arrived, the torturing/questioning really picked up. Russell spared only two of Area 5's vampires from a taste of the affliction: Bill and his progeny, Jessica, who was mainstreaming with a human man. Russell thought that was a waste, but allowed the lovely redhead to return to her human unharmed—a fact that was much appreciated by Bill. However, Russell also gave Jessica a standing invitation to come to his Mississippi mansion. Bill had appreciated that gesture as well.

Though he was an isolationist at heart, the king was kept abreast of all the interesting gossip by Talbot, who had heard from Lorena that Bill had been forced by the Magister to turn a young human. The turning had been Bill's punishment for killing a vampire in order to save his pet. Russell now realized that the "pet" in the story was Sookie.

Thinking about this, Russell was even happier that he'd killed the Magister. The thought of a random human getting turned to punish a vampire infuriated him. It wasn't that he had any objection to turning humans against their will. Hell—he'd never given any of his own children a choice! What he _did_ object to was the fact that the human's worthiness had not been established beforehand. In Russell's opinion, only the most exceptional humans ought to be gifted with vampirism. Russell had been disgusted by the new crop of vampires that had sprung up after the Great Revelation—so much so that he'd been responsible for killing quite a few unworthy ones himself. Luckily, he sensed some promise in young Jessica, and—though there did not seem to be great affection between her and her maker—they seemed cordial enough.

No. As boring as it had been, the torture of the vampires of Area 5 had been routine, and Russell had not made them suffer long. After all, the king did not want to alienate them! He wanted only to get all the information he could about Eric and his progeny, who was also nowhere to be found. Because of Victor's efficiency, most of the area's vampires were let go after only ten minutes of "vigorous questioning."

To ensure that their allegiance would begin shifting, Russell had even made sure that each vampire had a nice donor to help with his or her healing, which was easy given the fact that many fangbangers had shown up to Fangtasia that night since the club had been scheduled to be open. Russell simply had the humans glamoured to sit quietly in a section of the club where they waited for the vampires to come to feed. He even found a young blonde that he set aside for himself—along with Kenneth and Dimitri, both of whom had been glamoured to return to the club that night.

The only "problems" came when a couple of staunch mainstreamers refused Russell's offerings. Now—the king was all for the "appearance" of mainstreaming at times; it was practical, after all. But he couldn't abide "true" mainstreamers. He didn't trust them, for in his opinion they weren't "real" vampires! However, those two "radicals" were easily convinced to partake when Russell threatened their un-dead lives. As further punishment, he ordered them to attend supervised feedings in Jackson every week for the next year.

He'd drum the silly notion of pure mainstreaming out of their heads, or he'd put the pathetic creatures out of their miseries.

Russell smiled and took a moment to study the various elements around the club. It really _was_ a good bar, and he _did_ plan to franchise it—after he destroyed the original, that is. As he waited for Victor to finish up, he sent some photos of the club and emailed a few other ideas to his day-woman, Jennifer.

Of all the vampires of Area 5, it turned out that only Chow knew anything of use, which was to be expected given the fact that the Asian vampire was a partner in Fangtasia with Eric and Pam. Russell knew that Victor would leave Chow under silver a little longer than the others, but it probably wasn't really necessary. After only one swipe with Victor's silver paring knife, the Asian vampire had been very forthcoming with what he knew.

After he'd finished questioning Chow, Victor led Russell to the bar's safe, which was in Northman's office.

"What is the combination?" Russell asked. "Can significance be found in the numbers?"

Victor chuckled. "Well—there is certainly a message in the combination," he said as he entered the code. "It's an alpha-numeric keypad, and the combination is F-U-C-K-Y-O-U."

Russell laughed as well. "The Viking does have a bit of style. I have to grant him that."

Victor nodded in agreement as he began to look at the items in the safe.

"What is in there?" Russell asked with curiosity.

"Some deeds—including the one to this business and a few homes that we already knew about," Victor said as he thumbed through the documents he'd found. He placed them on the desk for Russell to peruse. "And I'd guess about fifty thousand dollars," he added as he stacked five bundles of bills next to the documents. "And this," he said as he held up a small data storage device.

The king motioned for Victor to use Northman's computer to check the contents of the device.

After a few minutes of browsing, Victor spoke, "For the most part, it seems to be accounting records for Fangtasia."

"Email those to my day-woman," Russell directed, "and make sure you tell her to check them carefully for spyware."

Victor nodded and did as Russell had bid.

"Is there anything else?" the king asked.

"Yes. There seem to be some recorded video feeds."

"Let me see," Russell responded as he motioned for Victor to get up.

Victor rose, and Russell took his place in Northman's chair. The king opened the first and then the second and then the third video file. His grin widened a little with each one he opened. They all showed video surveillance which included Sookie Stackhouse.

Russell chuckled with glee.

"Who is that?" Victor asked from over his shoulder.

"A telepath."

"A rare commodity. Is she yours?"

"Why? Are you hoping to take her for yourself?" Russell asked, looking back at Felipe's second in command. Victor was cut from the same cloth as his king—determined and clever, but slightly more reckless. If Russell had to guess, he'd venture that Felipe would have to kill Victor for treason in a century or so—unless the ambitious vampire were given a nice distraction, such as his own state or two to rule.

"She is lovely," Victor observed, leaning forward. "Is that Compton feeding her his blood?"

"Yes," Russell responded. "Young William has started a bond with the telepath."

"Ah—so she has already been claimed," Victor said with regret. "Do you intend to take her from him?"

"No," Russell answered, shaking his head. "If she is Compton's, then she is mine already. Right now, my focus is on recovering her. It is very likely that she is with your objective—Northman."

"Interesting," Victor mused. "Does he wish to claim the telepath?"

Russell paused the footage. "I am uncertain of the Viking's ultimate designs for the woman," the king mused. "But I intend to find them out."

Victor nodded. "If he took her, he has a reason. Perhaps he has a vendetta against Compton?"

"I know that there is no love lost between them," Russell mused. "And if the Viking can control Miss Stackhouse's telepathy, she could be a great asset to him." The king kept to himself the fact that Sookie's Fae blood likely made her taste divine, which would be good enough reason in and of itself to keep her around. But neither Victor nor Felipe needed to know everything. Too many knew that Sookie was Fae as it was.

"I want you to go to this address," Russell ordered as he pointed to one of the deeds. "It is the only one I did not know about before tonight."

Victor scanned the piece of paper and nodded in affirmation.

"I do not think the Viking would have left behind an obvious trail, but there may be something useful there," Russell observed. "And be cautious. Northman could have left behind booby traps."

Victor smiled. "I will enjoy playing this game with the Viking—I think."

"Just see that we are the ultimate winners," Russell responded, his eyebrow raised.

"A quarry has never evaded me for long," Victor said matter-of-factly. Russell knew that the younger vampire was not boasting. He was simply reporting fact.

"Oh," Russell said, as Victor moved to leave, "tell William to join me here. I'd like to view these videos with him."

Victor chuckled and winked at Russell before leaving the room.

* * *

Russell noticed that Bill was practically steaming with rage as they watched the first clip.

"That was the first time I brought her to Fangtasia," Bill said through clenched teeth.

"Northman seemed intrigued by her," Russell observed.

"Yes—he was," came Bill's clipped response.

"Well—she _is_ lovely. Tell me—did you claim her that night?"

Bill nodded. "I told Eric that she was mine!"

"What is going on here?" the king asked as he looked back at the video.

"Sookie heard an undercover policeman thinking about a raid. She informed us that a vampire was feeding illegally on the premises, so we left the club."

"So _that_ is how Northman learned of your Sookie's gift?" Russell asked.

Bill nodded. "Unfortunately. I should have emphasized that she should conceal her telepathy," he said with regret.

"Water under the bridge, young William," Russell comforted as he started the second video. "And what goes on here?" the king asked.

"Eric demanded that I bring Sookie to Fangtasia in order to help him find a thief."

"And here?" Russell asked as he watched an exchange between Eric and Sookie, which ended with Eric smirking and nodding as if in agreement.

Bill contemplated for a moment. "That must have been when Sookie agreed to work for Eric in the future, but only if he promised to turn over any human perpetrators to human authorities."

"And he assented to that arrangement?" Russell asked with interest.

"Yes," Bill responded, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Curious," the king remarked. "Oh—and this is where you protected Sookie from the thief," Russell observed as Bill staked Longshadow with a wooden beer tap.

"Yes. Sookie's safety _should_ have been better accounted for," Bill sulked.

Russell paused the video. "Yes," he agreed, even though his eyes weren't focused on Bill or Sookie. His eyes were trained on Eric, whose posture seemed to convey nonchalance and boredom at the situation. However, the king's eyes missed nothing. While Northman's hands were in his pockets, it was clear to Russell that the Viking was grasping something in his left pocket. The king kept his eyes fixed on that pocket. The object looked to be about three inches long, so it most definitely couldn't have been his own cock that Eric had been holding! Russell smirked to himself. No—the Viking had been gripping something else. Could it have been a small stake? If Bill hadn't acted, would have Eric killed Longshadow? Certainly, the situation seemed dire with the raging vampire looming over Miss Stackhouse; however, Russell knew that someone of Eric's age could have stopped Longshadow ten or twelve times before he actually made contact with Sookie's flesh. Hell! Eric wouldn't have even needed a stake; he could have easily ripped Longshadow's head off!

No. It was likely that Eric knew—or at least suspected—that Longshadow was behind the theft _before_ he had Sookie question his employees. The lack of surprise on the Viking's face was indication of that. Indeed, Eric had probably set up the entire meeting in order to find out Bill's level of devotion for Sookie. Or, perhaps, the Viking had hoped that Bill would take care of the Longhadow issue so that he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty. Killing another vampire was always a messy affair, especially if that vampire's maker was still living. Or, the Viking might even have anticipated that Bill's punishment would have been harsher—either the true death or several years imprisonment. Either scenario would have given the Viking free access to his very own telepath.

Russell went to the next clip. "Ah," he said, "are these wounds from the maenad attack you wrote about in your file?"

"Yes," Bill said as he watched Sookie being tended to by Dr. Ludwig.

"And Northman called Ludwig?" Russell asked.

"Yes."

"I hear her going rate is quite hefty," the king observed.

"Eric owed her, and my blood wasn't working," Bill said sulkily.

"Yes—that was in the report too," Russell responded evenly.

The king noticed that William adjusted his crotch when he watched himself feeding Sookie. However, the younger vampire was soon growling. According to the video's timestamp, ten minutes after all the vampires had left Sookie alone with a human woman to watch over her, Eric returned to the room with a basin of water and several towels. Soon after, the human woman left the room.

"The Norseman cares for your woman," Russell observed as they watched Eric carefully cleaning the dried blood from Sookie's face and back.

"He is taking advantage of her unconscious state to touch what is mine!" Bill growled through clenched teeth.

"Indeed," Russell returned as he took note of Eric's tender and respectful touch. "Has Eric had Sookie's blood?" he asked.

Bill stiffened. "No. At least he hadn't up until last night. Now—I do not know." He shook his head angrily. "But Eric is a monster, so he likely has!"

Russell nodded. He wondered if Bill was right. The Viking could have tasted the dried blood instead of cleaning it with a rag. Hell—while she was unconscious, he could have done a lot worse to Sookie Stackhouse.

The next clip was quite short. It showed a woman in a lavender dress walking through the bar. Her face became clear in the next spliced piece as it showed her walking out four minutes later, according to the time stamp on the video.

"That was the night I was abducted," Bill reported. "I bought Sookie that dress," he added wistfully. "I had asked her to marry me that night."

"How did Miss Stackhouse respond?" Russell asked with curiosity.

"She was overwhelmed and took a few moments alone to consider her reply," Bill said a little dejectedly. "I was taken while she was gone."

"Ah," Russell noted, "a woman often needs a moment at such a time." He paused the video and pointed to Sookie's left hand, upon which was a flash of light.

Bill immediately beamed at the sight.

"I believe _that_ is your answer, William," Russell said, looking over at the youngling. "She is wearing the ring you gave her—correct?"

"Yes!" Bill triumphed, his smile widening. "She must have suspected Eric of taking me. She looks angry."

"Yes, your southern belle obviously came here on the night you disappeared with the purpose of confronting Eric. She showed much bravery in her search for you." Silently, Russell was also noting the fact that the little telepath seemed to have no fear of Eric.

The final clip was time-stamped the very next night. In it, Sookie had come in with Jessica, who left the room with Pam a few minutes later. Eric and Sookie spoke for a while, and the king wished more than anything that there was audio for this part. Bill tensed next to him. The conversation between Eric and Sookie seemed emotional—heartfelt.

Eventually the two of them sat down and spoke together for a few more minutes, during which time Sookie seemed to be pleading with the Viking. Eric's countenance became troubled as he watched her. If Russell had to guess based upon Eric's body language, he would say that the Viking was bothered by Sookie's crying. After the telepath left with Jessica, Eric seemed lost in his thoughts for several minutes. His eyes were unblinking as he continued to sit at the table where Sookie and he had been. Finally, he rose and brought both fists down onto the table, breaking it into two clean pieces with his blow. It was there that the video ended.

"Quite an interesting story," Russell mused. "It seems that your Sookie sought out Eric's help in her search for you."

"Perhaps," Bill responded stiffly.

"I believe these videos demonstrate that the Norseman wants what is yours very badly," the king mused.

"I agree," Bill gritted out.

"That is good for us," Russell remarked, his three-thousand-year-old mind speeding through several scenarios. "Eric will likely want to keep your Sookie with him, but I have confidence that you will eventually be able to track her. Or—if the Viking continues to elude us—we will have the aid of my witch once she arrives. She will eliminate whoever is helping Eric with magic, and then you will be able to track her for sure! And, when you find her, we will have them both."

"What of the dream-weaving?" Bill asked. "I do not want Sookie to be with Eric a moment longer than is necessary!" he yelled, his body shaking.

Russell celebrated the fact that Bill would now believe that it was _his_ idea to continue weaving dreams. "You may keep sending the woven dreams, young William," he assured. "I too want Miss Stackhouse away from the Northman. As long as he has her, he can use her telepathy to evade us. I am just noting another strategy—my witch's arrival in a week or so—if we cannot draw her from Eric's side before then. Meanwhile, you must keep yourself calm," he said somewhat sternly.

"I will, your majesty. I," Bill paused, "apologize for my passion."

"It is quite understandable," Russell responded, his tone now soothing.

"It's just that these videos prove Eric's obsession with Sookie! It proves that he is a danger to her!"

Russell nodded as if he concurred with the younger vampire. In truth, the king thought that the only obsession regarding Sookie Stackhouse was Bill's.

On the other hand, there was something about the interactions between the telepath and the Viking that suggested something other than obsession. As a stronger vampire—especially as Bill's sheriff—Eric could have bypassed Bill's claim and easily taken Sookie as his own. Russell hypothesized that if Eric's interest was obsessive, he would have done just that.

No—there was much more than obsession in Eric's actions.

In all of his own interactions with Eric, Russell had never noticed the kinds of reactions that the telepath triggered from him in the videos. Especially in the clips showing them alone, he saw that the Viking seemed to be letting his guard down. In them, the Norseman's emotions could be seen—at least to a certain extent—even in the somewhat grainy video footage.

Russell understood Eric a little more now. A vampire—at least the kind that lived a long life—was, by necessity, cautious regarding his or her emotions. Indeed, there were very few beings that Russell had shared his true emotions with during his long life. Talbot and Nan were the only ones now living who had seen the "real" Russell. And, to the king, the ability to let down his guard was a gift beyond money or power—because it was rarer than both.

It was truly beyond measure.

However, even with Talbot and Nan, Russell held things back out of necessity. A power structure had to be maintained between sire and progeny, and vampire nature _had_ to be taken into account.

With humans, holding back was not necessary. And—through time—Russell had glamoured quite a few humans to be his confidants. Of course, he had always killed them once his craving for closeness had been slaked. After all, he was practical above all else.

Russell knew the signs. With Sookie Stackhouse, Eric seemed to be on the verge of opening himself—of trusting her. Russell wondered what the implications of that would be for the vampire in question—and for the telepath. After all, Sookie could not be glamoured into silence regarding any confidences Eric told to her.

Russell marveled over the possibility of being able share oneself with someone like Sookie Stackhouse—someone who could not be glamoured, someone who held no fear of him. The king couldn't help but to be envious of the Norseman.

To trust completely.

To give oneself fully.

To receive acceptance.

Understanding.

Empathy.

True companionship.

Such things would offer grace. Such things would be a luxury Russell had not enjoyed in three millennia.

What a coveted gift!

"William, why don't you go and check on Chow—to make sure he's restored after his session with Victor? I would also like for you to propose the idea of his running a copy of Fangtasia for me in Jackson." Russell looked up at Bill. "I trust that you can make Chow see that it is in his best interests to work with me."

"Yes, your majesty," Bill said with a bow before leaving the office.

As soon as the youngling was gone, Russell rewound the footage to once again study the video of Eric washing Sookie's healed wounds. The Viking's expression was—for lack of a better word—_peaceful_, as if no other moment in time had ever brought him as much contentment as the one that he was in. There was nothing predatory about his movements—nothing possessive. Though she was unconscious throughout Northman's care of her, Russell noted that at one point Sookie seemed to lean into the Viking's touch. He paused the video and looked at Eric's face in that moment. There was surprise there and something else: joy.

The ancient vampire skipped the next clip and re-watched Sookie and Eric's interaction as the vampire leaned against a table and earnestly said something to the telepath. Russell could not see the Viking's eyes because of the angle of the video, but he could see the telepath's reaction: surprise. No—it was _wonder_.

Finally, he re-watched the part of the video where Eric was contemplating something after the fairy left Fangtasia—the last video on the data device. Eric seemed to be angry, and Russell wondered if it was because of the emotions Sookie was able to stir in him—to draw from him.

"Yes," the king said with a wicked smile. "She makes him _feel_. He cares for her. And he hates himself for it!" He chuckled malevolently. "And he will soon hate her for it too!"

Russell watched the Viking bash the table in two and wondered how long Eric would allow the telepath to live if he ever did fully confide in her—if he ever did let her "see" him.

Russell did not think it would be long.

How could Eric possibly let Sookie live if she learned of the deepest parts of him?

However—by the same twisted irony—how long could Eric hold back from taking advantage of the _most precious_ gift that a vampire could receive: someone both cared for and worthy of trust?

Russell could only begin to understand the paradox of Eric's situation.

Eric _would_ confide in her. He _would_ become vulnerable. And, then, he _would_ have to kill what had made him vulnerable in order to survive.

The ancient vampire sighed. He hoped that Bill's dream-weaving would work sooner rather than later. If not, the telepath would be lost to the Viking's self-preservation impulse. Yes—it was only a matter of time before Eric's practicality trumped his longing for connection.

Sookie's value as a telepath aside, a vampire could _not_ allow a person to live if he or she had been witness to the vampire's weaknesses. And if Russell's instincts were right, Sookie had been or soon would be a witness to Eric Northman's. And Russell had seen that the Viking was too wise and crafty to let that stand.

Russell pocketed the data drive and grabbed the cash. He tossed the money to Dane as he left Northman's office and instructed his new Alpha to add it to the coffers of the pack. Russell had found over the years that it was good for morale to allow the Weres to share in the spoils of a fight. And they had lost many important members of their rank in recent days.

In fact, with that in mind, Russell rethought his earlier actions regarding the stalwart mainstreamers.

"Dane," the monarch said, getting the attention of his alpha again.

"Your majesty," the Were responded deferentially.

"Those two vampires who initially refused to feed from the humans earlier—do you remember them?"

"Yes," Dane responded.

Russell nodded. "Good. Have four of your strongest go get them tomorrow night. Have them told that I wish to see them, and when the vampires let their guards down, have your men bind them in silver. And then share their blood with your pack. I'll let you decide how to allot the blood and whether or not to keep the vampires alive," he added.

Dane bowed and looked at his ruler with gratitude. "Thank you, your majesty."

Russell smiled and patted the young Were on the back. Indeed, it might have been a blessing in disguise for Cooter to be killed. Dane seemed to understand his place much better—and he was a lot less volatile.

The king left the Alpha to make arrangements and went back into the bar.

"So," Russell said to Chow, who was sitting in a booth with Bill, "are you willing to participate in my business venture?"

"Yes, your majesty," Chow said immediately. "I accept your kind offer."

"And will I have your loyalty as Northman did?" Russell asked, looking at the Asian vampire through narrowed eyes.

"No," Chow responded, his own eyes laced with fear and awe—just what Russell loved to see. "You will have _more_ of my allegiance than the Norseman."

Russell smiled and nodded at the vampire. "You are around 200 years old—correct?" he asked.

"Yes," Chow responded. "Two hundred and four."

"It is good to see that you have learned to be practical during your centuries," Russell smirked.

"I have learned math, your majesty," Chow responded. "You are three times Eric's age. And I intend to live many more centuries."

Russell chuckled. "I like you, Chow. You will report to my day-woman, Jennifer Rigans in Jackson tomorrow before dawn to begin planning my Fangtasia."

Chow bowed. "Of course, your majesty."

Russell's phone rang just as the Asian vampire left the bar.

"Victor," Russell answered, recognizing the number.

"I have good news," Victor said.

"What have you found?" the king asked.

"One of your vampires called me right after I left there. He'd discovered the trail of Northman's progeny, but was having trouble following, so I joined him."

"What did you find?" Russell asked with anticipation.

"Her trail led to another home in the same neighborhood as her primary residence. That home was seemingly uninhabited."

"Was she there?"

"No—her trail disappeared completely," Victor reported. "However, I found something outside the home."

"What?" Russell asked.

"Right where her trail came to an abrupt end, I found a pouch that contained a small trace of magic."

"Make sure the magic is preserved," Russell ordered.

"It has already been done," Victor assured.

"Good. If you are done there, proceed to Northman's residence."

"I'm already on my way," Victor said before hanging up.

With only a couple of hours left before sunrise, Russell wanted Victor to continue trying to gets clues regarding Eric's location or destination. The king would have liked to have spent the rest of the night enjoying Victor's kinkier side, but it was best to keep his borrowed bloodhound on task.

Russell smiled.

"Good news?" Bill asked from the booth where he still sat.

"Yes—despite the fact that Northman's progeny's trail cannot be followed any further, a small trace of magic was found at her residence; it will likely be enough for Hallow to use to discover the witch aiding the Norseman."

Bill smiled. "That is good news indeed."

"Any progress with your tie with Sookie?" Russell asked.

The younger vampire's features deflated. "No. I know that she is alive, and I know that she is still sleeping, but I remain unable to infiltrate her dreams."

"We will find her," Russell assured. "It is only a matter of time."

With Fangtasia cleared out except for his own people, the king decided to spend the rest of the night at the club since it would be one of Sookie's likelier destinations if Bill's dream-weaving worked the next day. He briefly considered going to Bill's home—in case Sookie went there—but it was decrepit and shabby, and he _certainly_ wasn't prepared to sleep in the dirt. Hell no! Now that his business for the evening had been completed, Russell intended to take his time enjoying the only three donors left at Fangtasia: Kenneth, Dimitri, and the sweet-faced blond man who had caught his eye earlier.

The king looked at Kenneth and licked his lips. The man's blood was quite tasty, and though he was not to Russell's taste otherwise, his body was well-formed. Russell had already decided that he would take Kenneth with him to Jackson—as a gift for Talbot, who was always looking for a culinary find.

Remembering his mate, Russell quickly called Talbot, who complained for several minutes that Sophie-Anne had arrived at the mansion earlier that night in a foul temper.

That was no surprise!

The king was just glad that he'd not had to deal with her. Apparently, however, Sophie-Anne had calmed down when she saw the luxury of the wing Russell had decided would be for her private use so that she would not be in his hair all the time. Her wing had its own entrance and staff. Being reunited with Hadley had also seemed to help lift the queen's mood. Moreover, Talbot had sent Sophie-Anne a bowl of the blood sorbet he'd been perfecting. After that, her complaints had stopped. Russell smiled and praised the inventiveness of his beloved consort in taking care of his annoying new "wife."

As he spoke on the phone, Russell kept an eye on Bill, who was sipping on a TrueBlood and staring at Kenneth with desire in his eyes.

"Does he interest you?" Russell asked Bill, after his call with Talbot ended.

Bill looked slightly embarrassed. "His scent is excellent, your majesty. Is he part demon?"

Russell nodded. "Yes—just the right amount to add a nice bouquet to his blood—don't you think? But the flavor is not overpowering. I enjoyed him last night." Russell looked closely at the younger vampire. "I would like for you to enjoy him _with me_ tonight."

Bill looked down at the bottle in his hands. "TrueBlood is fine, your majesty. As I said before, I do not wish to be unfaithful to Sookie. And she would see it as cheating if I fed from another."

"But you fed from me," Russell reminded seductively.

Bill shivered. "Yes, and your blood is amazing, your majesty. But that was only to help us find Sookie."

"Please," the king responded in a gentle tone, "you must call me Russell—unless we are in a formal situation."

Bill's face brightened. "You honor me," he paused, "Russell."

The elder vampire smiled. "Consider something for a moment, William. If you subsist only on TrueBlood, how will you have the strength to weave dreams for your Sookie? It is," he paused, "just a thought, but you _might_ consider partaking of human blood, in addition to mine—but only until your beloved returns to you. After all, we will all need to be at our best to get her back from Northman as soon as possible."

Bill looked at his bottle a bit doubtfully. "You make a compelling point, your majesty," he said softly.

"And," Russell continued, "I _hate_ to bring this up, but I feel that I _must_ so that you are prepared for all possibilities." The king took on a paternal air. "You know of Northman's reputation—his ability to seduce," Russell added as if the words pained him.

"Yes," Bill returned, his hands shaking a bit.

"And one could not blame your Sookie if she succumbed—if she was succumbing _even now_," Russell continued. "After all, he has forced his blood into her. And he could be using that blood right as we speak—manipulating her into," he paused, "_accepting_ his advances. There is no way to know for sure."

Russell held in his smile as the bottle of TrueBlood shattered under the pressure of Bill's grip. "I will feed," Bill said, cold anger clear in his tone.

"You are making the right decision," Russell encouraged as he motioned for the three donors to follow him. He led them and his new protégé to the basement.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the wonderful comments about the last chapter! Most of you seem to be enjoying the king's POV. And I appreciate the debate over at my WordPress regarding whether Bill had a hand in Adele's murder. It's definitely something to think about. **

**The chapter you just read was one of my favorites to write. I loved trying to figure out what Russell would say if he could "see" Eric and Sookie's history to a certain extent. When I write, the characters kind of "talk in my brain," and I was so interested by how right Russell is about Eric's feelings toward Sookie—and also about how wrong he is too. I hope everyone liked reading the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Magpie Tales brought up an excellent point over on ff . net: "The only thing that struck me was if Bill was that good at his job, that good at manipulating people, why doesn't he realize that Russell is playing him? Bill caved pretty quickly in the earlier chapter with Russell too, but I put that down to fear. As I'm reading their interactions I keep wondering what Bill is up to, and is he playing Russell too. Or maybe Russell's power is mesmerizing ... ooh. Russell's blood. That could be what's making Bill so malleable." I do think that Magpie's theories are right on: Russell's blood and experience are both too much for Bill (in a similar way that Bill's blood and experience were too much for Sookie—turnabout is fair play). However, I also think that Bill **_**wants**_** to hear what Russell is saying—that he's best at manipulation when it comes to himself. Bill wants to be both the hero and the martyr in his own story (I have a brother like that, so I guess you could say that I sort of base Bill off of him). I also think that Bill is full of hubris. (That was clear in how he interacted with Eric.) I think that Bill believes he's above being manipulated. And—of course—I think he's scared of Russell, but also feels honored and "justified" in a sense that Russell has deemed him worthy to take under his wing.**

**Anyway, thanks Magpie Tales for the wonderful, thought-provoking comment! **

**Until next time when we are back with Eric and Sookie,**

**Kat**

**Remember that you'll find pics and art by Sephrenia over at my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com).**


	23. Chapter 23: Torn Down

**Chapter 23: Torn Down**

"_**Criticism may not be agreeable, but it is necessary. It fulfils the same function as pain in the human body. It calls attention to an unhealthy state of things."—Winston Churchill**_

* * *

**[When we last left Sookie & Eric in Chapter 19]**

_ At Eric's insistence, Sookie had lain down to rest after their talk, though she was not able to sleep. About twenty minutes before dawn, he roused her and waited as she brushed her teeth and hair and took care of her human needs. After that, he had her stand next to the white wall of the room and snapped a few pictures of her with the camera on his phone before sending them off to Brady. _

_ "I'm scared," Sookie said in a meek voice as they made their way down the stairs. _

_ "I will be with you throughout the severing," he promised._

_ She stopped and looked up at him. "You confuse the hell out of me, Mr. Northman."_

_ "Ah," he smirked, "it's all part of my evil plan, Miss Stackhouse." He winked and pretended of twirl the ends of a mustache. Then he extended his arm as if he were about to escort her to a fancy party._

_ She laughed a little and took it._

* * *

Given the closeness of sunrise, Eric evaluated the living room for safety as soon as he walked into it. There were two large windows in the space; however, both had been skillfully covered with black-out blankets as had many of the other windows downstairs.

"Better safe than sorry!" Amelia said cheerfully, as she finished putting up a second layer of blankets over the main windows in the room.

Eric nodded. "You have my thanks, young witch."

Amelia beamed. "Don't mention it."

After looking to his own safety, Eric took in the rest of the room. A blanket had been put on the floor near the fireplace. It was surrounded by a circle that looked to be made of salt, though Eric smelled other elements in the mixture as well. The fire was burning brightly and more wood had been brought in and stacked near the fireplace. A dozen bottles of water were laid out on one side of the pallet and six opened TrueBloods were laid out on the other.

Octavia gestured toward two folded garments in the middle of the blanket. "You two will need to change into dose _after_ you are in dee circle. All other clothing must be removed."

Eric nodded and led a pensive Sookie into the circle. Once inside, he immediately began disrobing.

"You are modest, child?" Octavia teased, as Sookie blushed a deep red upon seeing Eric's bare chest.

"Yes," Sookie said quickly as she turned around. "Eric?" she asked with uncertainty in her voice.

"Do not worry. I will turn my back to your beauty, Sookie," Eric chuckled softly.

Octavia cackled. "If I didn't know you better, Viking, I would say dat you were in love with dis child."

Both vampire and telepath tensed up at those words.

"But you _do_ know me better, witch," Eric said firmly.

"Ah—dat I do," the elder witch said. "I remember knowing you _quite_ well 'bout forty years ago."

"We did have some good times—you and I," the vampire said, his voice thick with a lusty memory.

Sookie reddened even more as she slinked out of her T-shirt and quickly removed her bra before picking up and putting on one of the gray cloaks Octavia had left for them. Only then did she remove the jeans and the panties she'd put on after her shower.

"I can take your clothes," Amelia said cheerily when Sookie was done undressing.

"Don't step out of dee circle now," Octavia warned as Sookie handed Amelia her discarded clothing.

"Okay," Sookie said somewhat timidly.

"You still look just as mouthwatering as dee last time I saw you like dis," Octavia said, obviously talking to Eric again.

"I am vampire," he said simply. "This body will be the same until I meet my true death."

"I have never found your equal," Octavia remarked with a little rattle in her voice. "Tis a shame dis body of mine had to age."

"I enjoy lovers of _all_ ages, Octavia dear, and from where I'm standing, you've held up very well indeed," Eric purred from behind Sookie.

Sookie heard something that sounded like clothing being thrown. She shut her eyes and tied the ribbon at the neck of her cloak as tightly as she could without choking herself. The garment had no other ties or buttons or zippers. Sookie knew that for sure because she'd spent at least thirty seconds looking for some.

"Always dee charmer den?" Octavia giggled, still talking to Eric.

"Always the girl I met in that dark alley in New Orleans," Eric retorted. "As I recall, you looked me right in the eye and asked for my blood."

"Ah," Octavia said with another even more girlish giggle. "You charmed me outta my clothes dat night—_before_ I charmed you outta your blood."

"I do not recall you _ever_ getting _my_ blood, Octavia," Eric chuckled.

"True," the elder witch relented. "But you were always good 'bout gettin' me vampire blood for my spells none-dee-less."

"Octavia was quite the entrepreneur," Eric said over his shoulder toward where Sookie stood. "And she didn't let anything get in her way when it came to finding what she needed for her potions and spells."

"Oh," Sookie said, not really knowing what else to say. "Are you decent?" she asked as she closed her eyes and turned slightly toward Eric, even as she pulled the sides of the cloak firmly around her in order to make sure it covered her body fully. She wished that it had more closures than the neck tie, but, thankfully, there was more than enough fabric to maintain her modesty.

"Are you insane, child?" Octavia cackled gleefully. "Ain't not'in' decent 'bout dis one!"

Eric was laughing with the witch now. "Ain't not'in' decent 'bout you neither," he said in a spot on imitation of her accent. "And—if I recall—you were _quite_ willing to seduce just about anyone in the Supernatural community to get the ingredients you needed," Eric remarked. "I was not your only victim, Ms. Fant." Sookie could easily imagine the smirk on his face.

"Ah," Octavia responded, "I always did enjoy good variety in my lovers. It is—as dey say—dee spice of life."

"Does Mr. Fant know?" came Amelia's surprised voice, now from across the room from where Sookie stood with her back still turned to Eric.

"Of course he does, child!" Octavia laughed. "My mate was the biggest rascal of dem all—_before_ we managed to tame each other." She sighed contentedly, a sound so joyful that it made Sookie open her eyes. She was met by Octavia looking right at her searchingly—no piercingly.

Immediately, Sookie gasped and felt a hot tear rolling down her cheek. She reached up to push it to the side.

"What 'tis it? Did you tink dat you had found a mate of your own, child?" the elder witch asked Sookie pointedly. Sookie felt as if she were somehow trapped in Octavia's gaze, and, no matter how much she wanted to—or how apprehensive she suddenly felt—she couldn't look away from the witch. She also felt compelled to answer Octavia's question: to give her the whole ugly truth.

"I did. But the love was all a lie," Sookie responded as another tear slipped down her cheek. She shivered; Octavia seemed to be looking into her very soul and seeing every hurt that had ever been there. No—Octavia wasn't just seeing all the hurt; she seemed to be prodding it.

"Perhaps love was never meant to find you, child. Not all deserve it," Octavia observed, somewhat callously. "You _are_ a strange one," she added, narrowing her eyes. "Eric wouldn't tell me _why_ you were special enough to spend dis effort on. Why don't you tell me, child?"

"I'm a telepath," Sookie responded, feeling an almost uncontrollable need to let slip all of her deepest secrets as she looked at the witch.

"I see," Octavia returned smoothly. "Dat explains his interest in you den. Your gift is stronger when you touch someone—I'd imagine."

Sookie nodded as another huge tear fell from her eye. She wasn't sure why, but her emotions seemed almost uncontainable as she looked at the witch.

"I can't imagine dee toughts of people are very nice, child—especially not toward one such as yourself."

"They're not," Sookie whispered.

"I suppose _many_ of dose toughts have hurt you."

"Yes."

"Your mother?" Octavia asked as if she were the mind reader. "You know, a mother is supposed to offer an individual dee most unconditional love he or she will ever find. Tell me—did your mother offer you dis?"

"She hated me after a while," Sookie confessed quietly. "She started drinking more, and she blamed me for it. She loved Jason and wished that she and Daddy had never had me."

"Jason is your brother?"

"Yes."

"And what does he tink about you, child?"

"He wishes he could've had a normal sister. He thinks Gran's death was my fault," she cried.

Sookie felt Eric's hand take hers, though, unlike earlier, she found no comfort from his touch. She wanted to look up into his blue eyes, but she was afraid she'd see pity there. Or—worse—indifference. It didn't matter anyway; she couldn't take her eyes from Octavia's, which now seemed to be glowing almost black.

"_Was_ Gran's death your fault, child?" Octavia asked.

"Rene killed her because I was dating a vampire. He came to kill me, but found her at home instead," Sookie answered. "I should have stopped—should have been unselfish and stopped seein' Bill after Tina was killed?"

"Who is Tina?"

"She was my cat," Sookie responded.

Octavia cackled loudly, sounding very much like the witch she was in that moment. "Ah—so your choices have affected creatures of a variety of kinds, I see. And—_you_ are ultimately to blame for dee deaths of your grandmother _and_ your cat? Because of your selfish desire to find love?"

Sookie could only nod.

"What did your gran tink of you, child?"

"She took me and Jason in when our parents died. She took care of us. She was kind to me. She didn't treat me any different because of my disability. She," Sookie stammered a little, "loved me."

"I did not ask what she did or felt, child. I asked what she _tought_ of you!"

Sookie couldn't stop herself from answering rapidly through fresh tears. "She wished that I could have been normal. She thought she was too old to take on someone who was so peculiar. She worried about what would happen to me after she passed away. She blamed herself for the way I was for some reason. A few times she wished that she didn't have to see me every day so that she wouldn't have to feel guilt about me."

Octavia pushed. "So you felt her guilt as much as her love?"

"Gran loved me," Sookie insisted. "When I got my shields, she didn't worry so much."

"Because you could _pretend_ to be more normal den?" Octavia said derisively.

"Yes." Sookie nodded. "Gran didn't like to think about my handicap."

"So you didn't speak of it."

"No," Sookie sobbed. "Hardy ever. Gran didn't have to blame herself if I acted normal. And it was easier for her to . . . ." Sookie stopped midsentence. She felt Eric squeezing her hand, but again it offered her no comfort.

"Easier for her to love you," Octavia finished her sentence for her.

Sookie nodded.

"Does anyone else love you?" the witch asked.

"Jason?" Sookie responded, though it sounded more like a question.

"It you have to ask, den he does _not_ love you by choice. Perhaps he feels only obligated to love you," Octavia said harshly.

"He's my brother," Sookie whimpered.

"Yes. The love of _obligation_," Octavia concluded.

"Lafayette, Tara, Sam, Arlene," Sookie said almost desperately. "They're my friends."

"Tell me what dey _tink_ of you, child," Octavia ordered, her eyes almost hypnotic in their power.

"Lafayette thinks I'm gonna get killed by vampires soon, and he's afraid to be around me much anymore. Sometimes he thinks about leavin' Bon Temps, and if he does, he'll never look back. He plans to keep in touch only with Tara, but not with me. But he'll ask her about me."

"You are obviously _very_ important to him den," Octavia said sarcastically. "What about dis Tara?"

"She thinks I'm selfish. She doesn't understand why I had to ruin the way things were by getting involved with vampires. She blames me for Gran's death too, but she wishes Jason hadn't hit me after it."

Sookie felt Eric's hand tighten again. It didn't hurt, but it didn't help either.

"What else does she blame you for?" Octavia asked perceptively.

"Eggs's death."

"And who was dat?"

"She loved him," Sookie answered.

"Did you kill him?"

"No. I helped him remember what he did when the Maenad had control over him, and then he went crazy. Jason shot Eggs when he thought he was threatening Andy."

"So your disability was responsible for Egg's death too!" Octavia attacked.

"Yes," Sookie said as more tears fell. "But I was tryin' to help him!"

"What did Tara think about your _help_?" the witch asked relentlessly.

"Part of her hates me," Sookie whispered. "Part of her hopes that Eric will just finish me off so that vampires will leave Bon Temps alone. It's my fault that Franklin Mott came, and he hurt her—raped her."

"But you said she loved you," Octavia mocked.

"She—uh—she . . . ." Sookie stopped, defeated. "She used to. Her mom wasn't a good person. She used to hit Tara, so Gran let her stay with us."

"And she loved your gran?" Octavia asked.

"Yes. That's why she was so mad at me when she was murdered. But Tara was my best friend; she'd stick up for me when we were kids. _I'm_ the one to blame for her hurt," Sookie said sadly. "If she hates me now, it's my own fault."

"And Sam—what does he _tink_ of you, child?"

"He's a shifter; he's hard to read."

"Dat was not an answer!" Octavia said scoldingly.

"He wanted me once," Sookie admitted. "He thought that since I was different, I wouldn't mind that he was different. He thought he loved me."

"And now?" the witch asked.

"Now he's glad nothing ever happened between us. He hates vampires."

"So he feels dat you tainted yourself by being with one?"

"Yes—a little. He's ashamed of thinking that way, but he does. He worries about me. He's a good man. He's my boss and he . . . ." She stopped.

"He what?" Octavia pushed.

Sookie's shoulders slumped, but her eyes stayed on Octavia's. "When I asked for some time off, he was thinkin' that he would have to replace me soon—since I was likely gonna get myself killed. He was sad about that."

"_Why_ was the shifter sad?" Octavia asked.

"Because he's my friend," Sookie cried.

"Why else?" the witch asked cruelly.

"Because I'm a good waitress," Sookie said as if the words had been beaten from her.

"And dis Arlene? What does she tink of you?"

"She—uh." Sookie shook her head and tried to blink herself out of the witch's hold. "You're right," she said dejectedly. "She used to be my friend, but now she blames me for Rene's death."

"Dee same Rene dat killed your innocent grandmot'er and your cat?" Octavia laughed cruelly.

"Yeah—he killed others too and tried to kill me as well, but I killed him in self-defense."

"Ah—so Arlene's loyalty is to a serial killer and not to a so-called friend."

* * *

"Stop!" Eric said loudly from next to Sookie. He'd been forewarned by Octavia about some of what to expect—some of what the witch would be doing. He'd also been told not to tell Sookie about it or to try to stop Octavia, but he'd felt his rage building with every word the witch had spoken, for every single word had hurt Sookie worse and worse. He'd tried to use his blood to comfort Sookie—tried to stimulate endorphins to help her feel better—but his blood had seemed powerless to help her.

Octavia continued to glare at Sookie but spoke to Eric. "Dis child is responsible for dee deaths or dee suffering of so many. Yet she dared to look at me with longing in her eyes when I spoke of my mate. How could _she_ hope to find love after dee misery her handicap has caused _everyone_ around her?"

"Octavia!" Eric bit out warningly.

The witch's voice bit right back. "Silence, vampire! Dis child _needs_ to hear dee truth." For a moment, Octavia turned her eyes to Eric. Immediately, the vampire sank to his knees next to Sookie, his hold on her hand dropping as well. "Why would you defend her? Try to help _her_?" the witch asked Eric harshly.

"She is an asset," the vampire responded through clenched teeth.

Octavia laughed callously and turned back to Sookie. "Do you know _why_ Eric is participating in today's spell?"

"To take away some of the pain—when our tie is severed," Sookie wheezed out.

"Yes," Octavia confirmed. "But the spell also _requires_ that you have someone with you that _cares_ for you. Otherwise, you will be lost in the spell. How does it make you feel to know dat the _only_ one who would stand with you during dis spell cares for you _only_ as an asset?"

"Eric," Sookie said shakily, as if begging.

"Do _not_ speak!" Octavia warned, looking at the vampire meaningfully.

Eric felt his anger rising to a boiling point, but he also realized that whatever Octavia was doing was somehow necessary. He gave her a curt nod—despite the fact that his eyes were staring daggers at her.

* * *

Sookie's eyes fell right back into Octavia's hypnotic gaze as soon as the witch looked at her again.

"How does it feel—to know dat you are not loved or wanted?" the witch asked angrily.

"It hurts," Sookie whimpered.

"But you deserve to feel pain—don't you?"

"Yes."

"'Tis not a surprise that your friends and family—except for dee ones who are _already_ dead 'cause of you—have all deserted you. You did not deserve dem."

"I know," Sookie sobbed.

"And yet you hoped for love—for a soul mate," Octavia said sarcastically. "How could love for one such as yourself be anything other dan a lie?"

"It couldn't," Sookie whimpered.

"You do not warrant love," the witch spit out. "Why would you tink dat _anyone_ could love you?"

"I hoped," Sookie squeaked out. "Finally, I wasn't able to hear someone's thoughts, so I hoped that he loved me. He seemed to."

"Ah—dee girl with dee telepathy finally finds hope for love," the witch said acerbically. "It must have seemed like dee stuff of fairy tales."

"It did," Sookie admitted gloomily.

"Tell me, child," Octavia said with a malicious grin. "Did you ever go out on a date?"

"Bill took me on one. He asked me to marry him."

"Bill is dee name of dee vampire you loved?"

Sookie nodded.

"What about humans? Did you ever have dates with any of dem?"

Sookie nodded again, even as she shivered.

"What did dey _tink_ of you?"

"They thought about having sex with me. They thought they were doing me a favor by taking out 'crazy Sookie.' They hoped that whatever 'disease' I had wouldn't rub off on them."

Octavia laughed as if she were hearing a funny story. "I imagine you heard dee toughts of dose boys _very_ well if dey tried to hold your hand or kiss you."

"Yes," Sookie admitted.

"And what did dey tink den?"

"They thought about what they wished was different about me. Or they wondered whether I'd be willing to give them a blow job or a hand job, even if I didn't put out. Or they thought about girls they'd rather be with."

"How many dates did you have with humans, Sookie?"

"Three," she answered. "Then Sam took me out once—the night Gran died."

"So you were off having fun even as your gran was being murdered?" Octavia shook her head disapprovingly.

"Yes."

"Yet you thought dis Bill could love you?"

"Yes. But he seduced me so that he could take me to the queen," Sookie said sadly.

Octavia laughed. "He took your virginity?"

Sookie nodded. "Yes."

"And your blood?"

"Yes."

"He used you and lied to you."

"Yes."

"Was it a happy relationship?" the witch asked with a mixture of curiosity and sarcasm in her voice.

"We fought a lot," Sookie answered. "But I thought so—maybe because of his blood."

"And you fell in love with him quickly?"

"Yes."

"_After_ you'd had his blood?"

"Yes."

"_Why_ did he give you—an unwort'y one—his blood, child? Dee blood is a gift."

"The Rattrays beat me almost to death. Bill saved me."

"Why did dese 'Rat' people beat you?"

"They'd been trying to drain Bill the night before they hurt me, and I stopped them."

Sookie saw Eric stiffen out of the corner of her eye, but she couldn't look at him.

"How many of dese Rats were there?" Octavia asked with amusement in her voice.

"Two."

"And how did dey manage to subdue a vampire?"

"Silver chains."

The witch laughed. "And _you_ saved him?"

"Yes."

"Did Bill offer you his blood dat night, Sookie? Dee first night?" Octavia asked knowingly.

"Yes," Sookie responded with confusion in her voice. "Bill offered to give me what the Rattrays had taken."

"Did you take it?"

"No."

"And dee next night—when dey attacked you? Tell me 'bout dat night."

"I was meeting Bill outside of Merlotte's after work, but he was late, so the Rattrays got me."

"Was Bill prone to being late?" Octavia asked with a smirk.

"No."

"Did he kill dee Rattrays easily?"

"Yes."

"Did he wait to save your life till you _had_ to take his blood or die?"

"What?" Sookie asked with horror in her voice as realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

"Tink, child. Your true love set you up to be beaten and almost killed so dat you would _have_ to take his blood," Octavia laughed gleefully as if she'd just been told a wonderful joke. Again, Sookie saw Eric stiffen out of the corner of her eye.

"And you never questioned him 'bout anyt'ing dat happened, did you, child?"

"No."

"He gave you his blood other times?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"The Maenad attacked me and almost killed me; I had his blood that night too."

"How did dee Maenad get to you?"

"Bill and I had had a fight, and I asked him to let me out of the car. I was walking alone in the woods when the Maenad found me."

Octavia chuckled. "Yet—I bet dat you took his blood _gladly_ and soon forgot all about your little lover's spat."

Shame-faced, Sookie nodded.

"Did you have any more of his blood?"

"Yes. One other time."

"Tell me!" Octavia ordered.

Sookie felt she had to obey. "It was during sex. He was trying to form a bond with me, but I didn't know that."

The witch laughed again, even as Sookie fell to her knees from the stress of Octavia's relentless questioning. Her eyes stayed locked on Octavia's, however. No matter how much she wanted to look away, she couldn't.

"I bet dee vampire took _a lot_ of _your_ blood, Sookie. Tell me—did you have sex with Bill often?"

"Yes. While we were together, we had sex almost every night," Sookie said weakly, unable to hold back the information even though it embarrassed her to speak openly about it.

"And I bet he took your blood _every_ time he had sex with you—didn't he?" she demanded.

"Yes."

Octavia sneered. "Did you know dat vampires do not generally have _relationships_ with humans, child?"

"I guessed that," Sookie said.

"On dee rare occasion dat dey do have such relationships, dey afford dee humans a certain amount of respect by _not_ feeding from dem during every sexual encounter. Do you know why?"

"No," Sookie whimpered, her whole body now shaking.

"'Tis because dee vampire wants to let dee human know dat he or she cares for dee human _beyond_ just feeding. 'Tis a sign of affection—or, if not'ing else—at least gratitude and a cursory attention to dee human's health."

Sookie couldn't say anything in that moment. All she could do was look at the person who was tormenting her and feel the truth—and the weight—of her words.

"You still love dis Bill—don't you? After all dat you have learned?"

"I don't want to," Sookie rasped out.

"But you do?"

"I don't know," Sookie admitted. "I think so."

"Is dat because Bill's so-called love is dee _best_ you could ever expect, child? You must know dat to be true!"

"Yes," Sookie said, her voice barely audible now. Her tears had stopped falling. Thus, there were no more left to warm her cheeks in the midst of the cold reality Octavia had set before her.

"What about Eric? Why do you have _his_ blood inside of you?"

"The first time—he tricked me into sucking silver out of his chest."

Octavia laughed heartily. "He too manipulated you to take his blood."

"Yes," Sookie whispered.

"Why did he want his blood in you, child?"

"I'm not completely sure. To try to control my telepathy? And because he wanted to drink my blood and to have sex with me."

"And dee second time?"

"It was last night. He came to the hospital. I was about to die, but he saved me. And then he gave me more blood after that so that I would be well enough to drive us here."

"Why did you almost die, child?"

"Bill—he almost drained me."

Octavia cackled. "And how did dat come about?"

"He was being tortured by his maker. I killed her and got him out of there. But he was so weak and sick. I tried to feed him, but then he . . . ." Her voice faltered.

"He almost drained you. And before dat, he let others beat you to within an inch of your life. He allowed you to go alone into dee woods. He _never_ showed respect for you during your intimate times with him. He planned to give you over to Queen Sophie-Anne, who would have surely abused you. I can tell you dat for certain! And yet you still love him?"

"He's what I deserve," Sookie said brokenly.

"And you say dat Eric saved your life with his blood."

"I'm an asset to him," Sookie said quietly.

"Ah yes. Your handicap is _finally_ useful to someone. Hmmm," she contemplated. "You would fetch a great price among vampire royalty. Perhaps, Sophie-Anne would have sold you to dee highest bidder. Perhaps dat is Eric's plan when you outlive your usefulness to him."

Sookie cringed with fear but tried to deny Octavia's words nonetheless. "No. He wouldn't do that," she insisted.

"Because you are an asset?" the witch smiled unkindly.

"Yes," Sookie said, even as her body continued to tremble.

"You trust him?"

"Yes."

"You are a fool, child!"

"Maybe," Sookie gasped.

"_Why_ do you trust him?"

"He saved my life."

"Bill saved your life too."

"It's not the same."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me—_why_ do you trust Eric?" Octavia's voice penetrated to Sookie's very core.

"He was different with Godric. I could tell that he loved him."

"So you saw dat Eric is capable of love. And dat is why you trust him?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Do you think he could love you?"

Once more Sookie saw Eric stiffen out of the corner of her eye. "No," she answered.

"Then why would his feelings for his maker matter?"

"I don't know," Sookie stammered. "Eric was kind to me in my dreams," she whispered.

"In your _dreams_!" Octavia chortled. "You do not even deserve kindness in dem, child!"

Sookie tried to look at Octavia defiantly. "Eric didn't have to save my life from the bomb or in the hospital or when I was trapped in the dream Bill sent. He risked himself!"

"Calculated risks to save an asset," Octavia sneered.

"Yes," Sookie relented despondently, the little fire she had left seeming to fade away.

"Do you know why _I _have a mate, child? Do you know why you _never_ will?"

Octavia didn't give Sookie the opportunity to answer; instead she responded to her own question. "I have a mate because I was found _worthy_ of love."

"I'm not," Sookie stated, sinking even lower onto her knees.

"No. You are _not_ worthy," Octavia confirmed cruelly. "You are free to go if you wish, vampire," Octavia said harshly, as she looked in Eric's direction. "You _should_ flee from dis child before 'tis too late for you. Dis one will get you killed! And she is not worth it!"

* * *

**A/N: So here I am—ahead of schedule again. I wanted to get you what I could in case work gets crazy!**

**Thanks so much for all the messages/reviews/etc. I really love it when people get into the stories I write! The discussion on WordPress has been really interesting. **

**So—in this chapter, you might be wondering why Octavia is doing what she's doing. What I can tell you now is that it's a part of the severing spell. Octavia is wise enough to know that Bill's blood will try to hide itself in Sookie's fears and sorrows—her darkest places. The liquid she gave Sookie to drink earlier (in Chapter 19) is helping Octavia to "see/feel" where those places are located as she questions Sookie. Eric was told something about this process, but Sookie's emotional responses had to be authentic, so she couldn't be told. As for the thoughts that Octavia elicits from Sookie (Gran's thoughts, Jason's thoughts, etc.), I tried to think of the worst thoughts that would slip into their heads (from Sookie's perspective) b/c that is what Octavia needs to find. **

**Now—I know that many of you get easily annoyed with Sookie. Sigh. But I can't help but to feel for her and admire her as a heroine (I still remember how much I enjoyed her in the early books as she seemed to be growing). Please remember where this story picks up. This is a young woman who has been emotionally scarred—not just by Bill, but by the thoughts of those around her, even those she loves the most. Before Bill, she'd never been able to have a "real" relationship. And I just don't think it would be realistic of her to jump into trusting Eric with both feet, especially since he's done a lot that is questionable. We have seen in this story that she's been learning to question things (I think that's an important and good step), and this chapter shows us the pain of her past. In her most insecure places (and don't pretend that you don't have some of those too), she has self-doubts and fears that bring her to her knees. Octavia is compelling her to say her worst thoughts about herself—things that we, ironically, generally just "think." This is a work-in-progress Sookie, who simply needs the opportunity to come into her own. I hope that you will be patient with her.**

**Anyway, that said, I hoped that you liked the start of the severing spell. Since I'm ahead of schedule, I'm gonna try to get you another chapter before I switch back to **_**Touch the Flame**_**. But all will be contingent upon my head (I've been having a lot of headaches lately) and the number of students who write the optional revisions for my class. **

**Next up: the physical part of the spell begins.**

**Until then, **

**Kat **

**P.S. Remember to check out the art on my Wordpress Site if you are interested. (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


	24. Chapter 24: Hold On

**Chapter 24: Hold On**

_ "Do you know why I have a mate, child? Do you know why you never will?"_

_ Octavia didn't give Sookie the opportunity to answer; instead she responded to her own question. "I have a mate because I was found worthy of love." _

_ "I'm not," Sookie stated, sinking even lower onto her knees._

_ "No. You are not worthy," Octavia confirmed cruelly. "You are free to go if you wish, vampire," Octavia said harshly, as she looked in Eric's direction. "You should flee from dis child before 'tis too late for you. Dis one will get you killed! And she is not worth it!"_

"No," Eric said quietly. "I will _not_ go."

"Dis child before you deserves neither your affection nor your care, vampire! And—to help her—you must surely have _both_! If you do not, den leave dee circle and let her slip into dee death she deserves! Once she is gone, her ability to cause others pain will go away with her. Her brother will live his life happily, knowing dat dee person responsible for his grandmother's death and his mother's alcoholism is no more. Lafayette will not get killed by being near her. Tara will not be troubled by other vampires, who only wish to harm her. Sam will no longer be encumbered by a woman who rejected him in order to take up with vampires. Arlene will find comfort dat the person who killed her beloved and exposed his sins to dee world has finally been punished. Bill will no longer have to _act_ as if she is tolerable. Her grandmother's and her mother's souls will be able to rest in peace. _All_ would be better off without her!"

By this time, Sookie's body was wracked with sobs as if each of Octavia's words had cut her.

"But know dis, vampire," Octavia continued more loudly. "If you care for dis woman _only_ as an asset—if you feel no true affection for her―den she is _already_ dead. And so too shall _you_ be—if you stay in dee circle."

At those words, Sookie finally pulled her eyes from Octavia and looked at Eric. He was not looking back at her. His eyes were locked with the witch's, as if he, too, had become trapped by her black orbs.

"You should go, Eric," Sookie said tiredly—dejectedly. "You should go before you die because of me. You don't care about me—not really. Go before you're hurt—like everyone else. Just go."

"I'm staying," Eric mumbled stubbornly even though he didn't move his eyes to Sookie's.

"You'll die if you stay," Sookie said desperately as she placed her hand lightly onto his. "I'm sorry I failed you. I just can't be," she paused as a sob broke through, "worthy of your care—or anyone's."

"Stop!" Eric yelled, finally yanking his eyes from Octavia's stare and looking at her. His fierce blue eyes held neither pity nor fear. "I am in _no_ danger of dying here, Sookie."

"But she said . . . ."

Eric interrupted Sookie as he raised his hand to her cheek and thumbed away her tears. "What did I say to you at the hospital—when you woke up after taking my blood?"

"You told me you were sorry," she responded.

"I thought I didn't apologize," he smirked a little.

"But you did—to me."

"What did I have to be sorry for, Sookie?"

"For what you said at Russell's."

"What words did I say that could have spurred me to make the first apology I have given to anyone in more than a thousand years, little one?"

"You said you didn't care about me," she whispered. "That I meant nothing to you."

"Do you know why I was sorry about saying those things?"

"No.

"Because they were lies," he said as he gently cupped her face with his large hands.

"You," she hiccupped, "actually care about what happens to me?"

"I do."

"Because I'm your asset?"

"Yes—but there's more."

"Because you wanna have sex with me and drink my blood."

He chuckled and tucked some of her newly brown hair behind her ears. "Yes—_definitely_—but there's more."

"What else could there be, Eric?" Sookie asked almost desperately—as if his next words to her would surely determine her fate.

"You intrigue me. You stood up to me and showed no fear as you negotiated for Lafayette's release." He smiled. "You even slapped me."

She let out a half-sob, half-chuckle. "You deserved it. You were being a . . . ."

He interrupted her. "I was being a jackass?"

"Yeah."

"You stayed with Godric when I could not, Sookie Stackhouse," Eric said, his voice more sincere than she had ever heard it before. "In the church, you chose to trust me when I hadn't yet earned it. And—you were right about what you said the night before last: I _did_ put myself between you and that bomb, even though I knew it could mean my end. I just could not let it mean _your_ end."

"Eric," she gasped as he thumbed away a new tear trailing down her cheek.

"I have cared for few people during my un-dead life," the Viking stated matter-of-factly.

"But you care for me?" Sookie asked with hope in her voice.

"Yes. I would grieve your death."

"Dat is good enough," Octavia said from outside the circle. Her voice was now kind, but Sookie did not want to look at her again, so she kept her eyes fixed on Eric's.

"Amelia, bring me dee ash," Octavia ordered her apprentice.

Sookie heard footsteps.

"Child, I need you to look at me now," Octavia said gently.

Sookie shook her head in fear. "No," she whimpered. "I can't."

"It is okay," Eric said, taking her hand firmly in his. "I have you now. I won't let go this time."

Sookie looked at their linked hands and then turned her eyes slowly toward Octavia.

"I had to find dee vampire blood within you and understand dee reasons why it was there in order to take it from you, child," the witch said. "Dee other vampire used his dream to control your fear. I had to find dat fear within you—to know where his blood would try to hide from me."

"Hide?" Sookie asked, her voice shaky.

"Yes," Octavia responded. "'Tis believed among witches dat a vampire must _willingly_ let go of his or her blood in a human in order for a severing to work."

"But Bill wouldn't do that," Sookie said with trepidation.

"No," Octavia said kindly. "He would not. But I have recently learned another way—a way dat does not require the vampire's permission. However, 'tis harder."

"Harder?" Sookie squeaked out.

"Yes. If not ordered to give up, dee vampire blood will fight. It will hide within dee darkest places of dee human host. I am sorry, child, but I had to learn dose places—map dem—so dat I can track dee vampire blood dat tries to flee my magic."

"So—uh—we can do the spell now?" Sookie asked timidly.

"The spell began almost an hour ago," Octavia responded, gesturing toward Amelia.

Sookie glanced at the younger witch and saw that her mouth was moving. Amelia gave Sookie a wave but continued her silent chanting.

"One must be torn down before one can be freed," Octavia said sagely.

"But why did you have to," Sookie paused, "do it that way? I would have told you what you needed to know."

"I still would not have known where to look," Octavia said. "If it refuses to leave you freely, dee vampire blood will act like a virus in you, child. During the spell, it will seek to burrow into your emotions—to hurt you as much as it can. From what Eric has communicated to me about Bill Compton, I believe dat his blood will seek to hide where you are most vulnerable. It will try to use your greatest fears and self-doubts against you."

"And Eric's blood?"

Octavia shrugged. "Dee Viking has a great deal of blood in your body, but he has agreed to allow it to burn away without a fight. And now dat I know where to seek Compton's blood, I will be able to weed him out," she said kindly.

"So you've done this before?" Sookie asked.

Octavia shook her head. "No. But I witnessed my own mentor conducting a similar spell many years ago."

"Similar?"

"Yes. There wasn't as much blood to deal with, and there were not two vampires involved, but dee vampire in dat case was not in agreement with dee severing." Octavia paused. "So 'twas _similar_."

Sookie took a shaky breath.

"You can still stop dee spell, child," Octavia said. "I will not be offended if you do. But once I begin dee next part, 'twill be too late to stop it."

Sookie felt Eric squeeze her hand in support. This time, she squeezed back. "I don't want to stop," she said, trying to sound braver than she felt.

The witch smiled. "You are much greater dan your fears, child—so much greater and stronger dan you probably know."

Sookie felt Eric squeezing her hand again. And, again, she squeezed back.

"You have friends here," Octavia assured, looking toward Eric meaningfully. "And I will use all of my power and skill to aid you."

"Thank you," Sookie said.

"Come closer to me, child, but do not step from dee circle," the elder witch instructed.

Sookie nodded again and moved to the edge of the circle; Eric moved along with her. Octavia rubbed some of the ash onto Sookie's forehead and cheeks before doing the same to Eric.

"You should lie down," Octavia said. "The next part will begin the physical pain."

When Sookie turned back to face Eric, she gasped. "You're bleeding!" she exclaimed as she saw a narrow trail of blood coming from his ear.

"I know," Eric said casually. "It is only the bleeds." He looked at Sookie. "Blood will eventually fall from my nose too—maybe even my eyes—but you must not worry. It is merely an effect of the daytime on me."

"Does it hurt?"

"No," he responded. "Just a little uncomfortable."

Sookie bit her lower lip but nodded before using her free hand to secure the fabric of her cloak in order to keep the garment from opening. Carefully, she lay down onto her side, grateful that Eric lay down facing her so that she would not have to drop his hand.

As soon as they had lain down, Octavia began chanting out loud, and Amelia's silent chanting became audible as well. It seemed as if they were speaking in Latin.

"Do you really believe the things that Octavia was saying about you before, Sookie?" Eric asked quietly as they looked into each other's eyes and waited for whatever pain was about to come to them.

"When she was talking—yes," Sookie confessed. She sighed. "I guess a part of me _does_ believe those things. I know you think of my telepathy as an asset, Eric, but it's done little but hurt me during my life, and because of it—because of _me_—a lot of other people have been hurt too. I may not have meant for that to happen, but it has."

The vampire nodded and appeared to be about to say something else, but then pain contorted his face. At the same moment, Sookie felt a strong pressure in her stomach, though it wasn't exactly pain. Involuntarily, she reached out with her free hand and placed her palm over Eric's unmoving heart.

"What's happening to him?" Sookie yelled toward Octavia. The witch did not answer, however. She simply gave Sookie a knowing look and continued her chanting.

"Eric," Sookie said, trying to ignore the pressure in her own body and to keep her focus on him.

"It is fine," Eric grimaced. "The spell is seeking out vampire blood, and mine is the easiest to find, so it is being burned away first."

Sookie squeezed his hand. "What can I do?"

"Blood," Eric said.

Immediately Sookie raised her wrist to his mouth.

He chuckled, though the sound rattled with his pain. "The _TrueBlood_, Sookie."

"Oh," she said, shaking her head. She looked next to the blanket they were lying on and grabbed the nearest bottle of TrueBlood.

"I'll need you to hold it," Eric requested. "I would likely crush the bottle if it were in my hand."

"But you're holding my hand," Sookie said with a little fear in her voice.

"Yes, and not squeezing _it_ is difficult enough," he said.

Immediately, Sookie tried to take her hand away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know!"

He kept hold of it. "No!" he said almost desperately. "Your touch is," he paused, "comforting."

"Okay," Sookie said, holding the already-opened bottle to his mouth. He drank a little before shaking his head so that she would take it away.

"That's enough for now," he panted as another strained looked came upon his face.

* * *

Sookie had felt helpless as the mighty Viking vampire had experienced one wave after another of discomfort. After what must have been a couple of hours, Eric had consumed all of the TrueBlood, but his pain showed no signs of abating. Sookie was still experiencing pressure in her body—more like cramping than pain—but all of her concern was with Eric as he continued to suffer.

"You must let go of my hand now," Eric said in a strained voice. "I am sorry, but I fear that I will not be able to stop myself from crushing it soon."

Sookie nodded and removed her hand from Eric's. Immediately, the vampire seemed to be in sheer agony, and his body began to convulse.

"Eric!" Sookie yelled as tears welled up into her eyes.

"Do you care for dee vampire as he cares for you?" Octavia's voice asked her.

Sookie looked over her shoulder and saw that both witches were still chanting.

"You are not used to people tinking tings at you," Octavia remarked inside of Sookie's head. "How odd dat dey do not."

Sookie looked at Octavia with uncertainty in her eyes.

"Do you care for Eric?" the witch asked again, still thinking her words at the telepath.

Sookie nodded.

"He has trusted you just as much as you have trusted him today, child."

"What can I do?" Sookie asked pleadingly.

"Touch," Octavia said. "It is dee touch of a trusted one dat allows the human going through dee pain of a severing to keep hold of his or her sanity. Eric is stronger dan a mere human, and more dan two thirds of his blood is already gone from your body. He _will_ survive dee pain, but you could sooth him with your touch. Dee choice is yours, child."

Sookie immediately brought her hand to Eric's cheek, and his body stilled a little. "Like this?" she asked over her shoulder.

"That will help, but the more of your flesh is on his flesh, the faster dee blood will burn and dee less pain he will have to experience. Dat is why you have dee cloak," Octavia answered with a twinkle in her eye. "You may touch as much or as little of him as you like."

"Shit," Sookie muttered under her breath as she immediately began moving closer to Eric, trying to figure out how to touch as much of him as possible—while still keeping a shred of her modesty intact.

"Do not worry about dee vampire's modesty," Octavia's voice told her. There was sarcasm in her tone even as she spoke into Sookie's mind. "He has none."

Ignoring Octavia's teasing, Sookie took a deep breath and untied Eric's cloak. The vampire's eyes stayed closed, and he continued to be lost in his pain as she rearranged his cloak so that it covered only from his waist to his thighs. Making sure his eyes were still closed, she untied her own cloak and pulled it over the two of them as if it were a blanket. She pulled herself toward him so that her lady bits were on the other side of his bunched up cloak and then burrowed the rest of her bare body into his: her legs against his legs, her chest against his ribs, her cheek over his heart. She pulled one of his arms so that it rested around her waist and then placed both of her own arms around him, hugging him as tightly as possible.

Eric's pain seemed to ease immediately, though it did not go away completely.

After a few moments of recovery from the worst of his agony, Eric spoke in a strained voice. "Are those your breasts against me, or am I dreaming?"

Sookie sighed, a little in relief and a little in exasperation. "Don't push your luck, Northman," she teased. "Octavia said that the more we were touchin', the less pain you'd feel."

Eric let out a pained chuckle. "Yet there is a cloak still between us. We could be _closer_, Sookie," he whispered half-suggestively and half-tenderly.

"Shush," she chastised. "You're ruining this for me."

"Ruining what?" he asked, his voice still strained.

"For once, I'm the stronger one—the one in control," she laughed a little.

"Can I at least _see_ what I am feeling?" he asked, his head tilting down a bit. Her own upturned head blocked his view.

"Not unless you wanna go back to the two of us not touchin'," she warned.

"You're no fun, Sookie," Eric complained even as he nuzzled his face into her hair.

"Eric?" she said after a while. "Thanks."

"For what?" he groaned a little. Sookie couldn't tell if it was from arousal or pain. It sounded like both.

"For staying with me. For taking away the pain of your blood leaving mine."

Sookie felt something press against her head, as if Eric had kissed her hair, though she couldn't be sure. "When the pain comes at you, little one," he said, his voice muffled, "it will come hard and fast. You may hold to me as tightly as you need," he said ominously. "I will not break."

"Will it start soon?" she asked.

"My blood in you is waning," Eric responded, "but I intend to leave some of it in place so that I can use it to monitor Bill's. As soon as I conceal my blood from the spell, it will go for Bill's, which has hidden itself. It is then that Octavia's spell will begin to find it. And it is then that the pain will come to you."

"I'm scared, Eric."

"It is not wrong to be scared, little one. The pain _is_ great."

"Thanks," she said a little sarcastically.

"You _are_ strong enough," he said sincerely.

"I'm glad you think so," Sookie whispered, even as the pressure within her began to burn a little. "Eric?" she said uncertainly.

"I won't let you go, Sookie," he said, his lips suddenly next to her ear.

"Oh God!" Sookie exclaimed as the first real pain hit her. Her fingernails ripped into Eric's flesh.

"I always knew you were blood-thirsty, Sookie," Eric said, his own voice having returned to almost normal.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's okay," he assured. "Tear into me all you want. This is your opportunity to get back at me for all the dastardly deeds I've ever done to you."

She looked up at him, her eyes seeking his. "I'm sorry I ever believed you were dastardly," she said sincerely. "You're not."

"Not today," he responded, his voice thick with an emotion that neither one of them could have named.

"Eric, I hurt!" Sookie said in a distressed tone as another wave of pain hit her.

"I know. Just hold on, Sookie," he said. "Hold on to me."

**A/N: Hiya! With the exception of one anonymous reviewer, who seems to hate Octavia's accent and my editing skills as a whole, I am happy to report that most of you seemed to like the last chapter! Thanks for all the wonderful and thought-provoking comments. I appreciate those of you who left thoughts, especially those who signed in to do it. ;)**

**Getting Eric to talk about his feelings is still like pulling "fangs." But he's getting there. And our silly, modest Sookie. I'm sure that most of you—like me—would shed those cloaks even before being told it would "help" the situation. But, alas, Sookie is still trying to maintain some modesty. Wonder how long it will last . . . .**

**Tomorrow I'll be getting a set of essays, so I'm sorry to say I won't have more time for this story before I transition to **_**Touch the Flame**_**. So no more chapters this cycle. Sorry to leave you where I did. I'll catch you next week!**

**Until then,**

**Kat**

**P.S. Don't forget about Sephrenia's art on my WordPress (californiakat1564 . wordpress . com)**


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